Shall I reconnect to my inner blogger? We shall see. For the mean time, this has been a long time coming

I haven't updated seriously in forever. It isn't like I have a plethora of devoted followers stalking me every minute and asking when the next update will be and I can't anticipate that will happen. However, I do have a few friends that like reading this (for some awful reason) and seeing my horrendous computer drawings. People amaze me, honestly.

So, I am single all over again. That means that I can now marry Josh Groban. I would say this with more enthusiasm but I am still not loving the idea of being by myself again and don't want to really think about it anymore. Josh is usually my stress-reliever but I can't relate to any of his songs at the moment so I am listening to mostly other stuff now. I am going to go see Dmitri on the 13th of February with my dearest friend Kat, though, so hopefully that will cheer me up so I am not dying all day on the 14th. I was looking forward to having someone on Valentine's Day but that's not in the cosmos anymore. Maybe I will expect roses and chocolate dipped fruit next year.

I am going through some other changes. I am really re-evaluating things in my life and seeing if my current career path is really something I want to stick with. I had a vision earlier about living in a small town somewhere and having a cute blue house with white trim and hardwood floors. Maybe I would be a psychologist and sing  on the side. I would have a husband and my parrot and neighbors who I knew. I would love to have that kind of a life. I want to be happy, I want to be able to pay my mistake loans off, and I want to make people happy.

So yeah. Hopefully soon I can return to my frivolous, storytelling blogs.
<3      

The Hunger Games Series...

...is incredible.

Telling the truth gets me into more trouble than lying... and I am bad at lying

Maybe I'm bad at telling the truth.

In reality, I think it's that I have bad timing telling the truth. Oftentimes when there is something I need to "be honest" about, it's something that there isn't necessarily a good time for. Therefore there is a good time for it and that time is never... that didn't make much sense I suppose. It's like I bottle things up for a really long time, let out a little steam from it, apply more pressure, find a way to apply more pressure because I am in a bad mood, and then finally melt down. I don't like how I do this. I would like to find a healthier way to get rid of stuff, but alas it doesn't work. I fail at this stuff.

This is a mushroom cloud in case you can't tell. I am not the best artist ever.

I think I am too honest and too caring and I wish I could just stop. The thing is that some people do appreciate that in me and a lot of them are the ones hiring me or working with me. I should try and please them. I am getting tired of trying too hard though. I give everything about myself to people who don't appreciate it or who don't understand how I am trying to be the best I can be for them and it exhausts me. I'm tired of losing and I am tired of promising I could be there and be strong without being met halfway. I like to think I am a loving person but it gets hard after a while. it's hard to be nice. It's hard to cry over stupid stuff when so many parts of you are crying out telling you it's worth it. I've got different sides of me telling me different signals. My heart says it's worth it and my brain says I've already been hurt before. I want to know what part to listen to; I think it's the one I have been following but love/infatuation/liking doesn't pay the bills. It also can't fix everything. 

This is turning into a sleepy, stupid, emotional rant though. I wanted to update for Kelly. She wanted one. Too bad it's a pity party.... I need sleep now. Happier update to come later.

The trouble(s) with sopranos/I am not a human praise machine

I am not talking specifically about myself in this one; well, not in the being a soprano sense. I happen to have about a 99% chance of being a soprano but considering my age it really doesn’t matter. The voice doesn’t develop until a person is in their mid to late twenties. I am barely twenty so I won’t say I know everything yet. 

I do know a considerable amount about the voice and its mechanisms, however. People respect me for that and I am grateful. I like being a go-to person when it comes to the thing I love most in the world. The thing is that I garner almost too much respect for it (ALMOST. I am not chasing away people who happen to think I am smart. Poor lost souls…) and am sought out not only for advice and curiosity, but also for praise. I will gladly and without question praise my friends for a good performance or for a major breakthrough, BUT there is something people look for me for that really bothers me a lot…

“Hey Alyssa! Guess what.”

“I dunno. You found a cure for AIDS?”

“No, almost as good.”

“I can’t think of anything that would be almost that good… maybe a cure for cancer?”

“No. I just had a voice lesson and my teacher says I am a soprano now!”

Please tell me, folks… what am I supposed to say to that? Usually my reaction is:

“Oh. Okay.”

In all seriousness, I shouldn’t be rejoicing with you. I mean, it’s not like your repertoire is really going to change. The cases in which a singer would completely switch register is likely the issue of a bad teacher (at this early in the game. If you are singing Mozart tenor stuff and found out that you need to be in Verdi baritone land, your entire rep is going to change but that usually happens when one is later in their life… like… thirties. For beginning college students you MIGHT sing Star Vicino in a higher key… maybe.)

But really, I fail to see why I am supposed to break out the champagne and balloons for every young singer who tells me she is a soprano now. It’s expensive to throw parties every five minutes for girls who think it’s the most important thing in the world that I acknowledge their “new found fach”.  When I found out I was in soprano rep it was surprising to me (though no one else was surprised) but the thing is that it doesn’t really matter. If you like to sing then SING. If it really matters to you that you’re singing Cherubino instead of Susanna then you have bigger problems than vocal range. 

Motivation can be surprisingly hard to come by... especially in this case

So my topic this evening is dieting.

Yes... most of us have been there. How do you even begin one of these monstrosities? It's really easy to say "I need to go on a diet" or "man... I would really love to fit in those old jeans again" or even "I've eaten way too much Taco Bell in the last month. I'm going on a diet FOR FOREVER". Stringing together a group of words can be surprisingly easy: Following them is significantly more difficult.

I think it was my junior year of high school that I found dieting to be much easier. My mom was doing Weight Watchers and so it was a really convenient time to try it out. I began one day and I stuck to it for an entire month (which is a pretty big deal after being raised in a family where no one says no... ever). I lost quite a bit and I felt really good. I have pretty much maintained that same size since I lost the weight I put on at the beginning of college after I ended up (somewhat forcefully) dropping out of my private school... even though I was eating nothing but Subway, pizza Lunchables, and Powerade. I'm sure it wasn't healthy but hey, I looked healthier!

Around my house whenever I start to eat healthier I get distracted BY THE END OF THE DAY. Despite my willpower, someone hands me a goddamn cupcake and then it's like "Screw it. You only live once!" And then after I eat it, I get this hollow feeling. I think it's guilt.

Yes. It is a guiltcake. Look how scary, yet tempting, it is... and it's going straight to your [insert name of body part you most want to get liposuctioned at this very moment].

I really need something to get me motivated to do this damn thing. When I am in a professional setting and I get the giggles I just think 'if you laugh right now you will never sing at the Metropolitan Opera'. I KID YOU NOT. IT FREAKING WORKS. Giggles = gone forever. Maybe I will have to say that if I don't stick to my diet:

1. I will never make it to the Met.

2. I will never be able to hold a relationship ever.

3. They will take my family captive and send them to Australia with their memories wiped clean of my existence. 

I think maybe that is radical enough....?

4. They will chop off all my limbs and replace them with giant spider legs.

If you think that is awesome, shame on you. Spiders are terrifying. 

Hopefully, though, that list will keep me on track. We shall find out.

The reason I will never eat anything from Walmart again in this lifetime

It's not that the deli section is bad; on the contrary, they have pretty good food for pretty damn cheap. Every fiber of my college student being rejoices in this. The less money I have to spend on conveniently pre-cooked food that I don't have to turn on a stove for, the better. (I made dinner tonight and it was pretty good, though. I am impressed with myself.) Also, I am done eating at Taco Bell for the reason of it being cheap and filling. I hate fast food. Ugh.

Anyway... onto the reasoning.

Once upon a time when I was really hungry after not eating all day because I woke up late for my early class and  didn't eat breakfast because I spent too long putting in my contacts because it has been getting increasingly difficult for some reason... I went to Walmart with my mom and sister after I was done for the day. I sat in the backseat of the car, stomach crying out for nourishment after a long day of class, then studying, then more class and some practicing just waiting for my next meal. The idea then struck me that I was hungry for Chinese food. It must be that I think about eating Chinese food twice a day because it is my favorite out of all food nationalities. Also, there is a type of Chinese food for every kind of hunger besides like... gravy or cheese. (cheese hungers are brutal) I didn't want Panda Express because we used to eat it so incredibly often when my mom was married to her last husband so that was out of the question. Jumbo Buffet was way on the other side of town and doesn't have takeout. Beijing is kind of pricey, Dynasty is the same way, Ocean Palace is near Jumbo Buffet, Wok Inn is all the way in Stockton, and Wok King by my house closed. Other than those places, I don't know any of the other places in town and I just wanted something super cheap.

Walmart has a rendition of my favorite kind of Chinese... the kind that fit my hunger description. Three bucks. HAD TO HAVE.

WELL, if I had known what was going to happen I would have gone home and stuck my head in the toilet instead. I sauntered happily into Walmart, eyes aglow with anticipation, stomach singing L'Arie pour le Nourriture Chinoise, debit card smiling because it wasn't going to have all of its funds ripped out... it sounded like a fantastic thing was going to happen. I approached the deli counter, waited for the people with a BILLION children in front of me and eyeballed the glass case before me. They actually had it this time, unlike last time that I went there and had to settle for barbecue chicken or something. (side note: I just learned that barbecue is not spelled with a q. I always thought it was barbeque...) When it was finally my turn I stepped forward and said "Could I get a medium container of the General Tso's chicken please? I've been craving it all day!" I am usually this enthusiastic and chipper with everyone. I figure there's no point in being gloomy all the time. That makes me feel depressed. In fact, my customers at work oftentimes ask me if I am on something or what I had from the cafe. If they ask what I have from the cafe I say "Iced caramel macchiato with no whip. Would you like me to order one for you from the cafe? I can do that from my register, you know..." As a matter of fact, I usually look like this:

I think it is pretty accurate except my teeth are not that white. The only person on the earth who has teeth that white is Paula Dean.

I digress.

So I get my food, the lady behind the counter tells me to "eat up" since I said I have been starving all day, and I am about to skip merrily through the store to find my mother so we can go home... and then this lady who was standing there with her two small children and participating in the little purchasing banter says something along the lines of "are you having a baby?" because I said I had been craving it all day.

I don't ever recall being speechless. I always have something to say. At that point I had so little to say that I reverted into rudeness. I said something along the lines of "no.................................... but thanks for asking?" before walking away. I swear I blacked out I was so mad/embarassed/furious/sad/irate/confused. Of course my first thought was "do I look pregnant?" and then "Am I old enough to be pregnant?" and then "why the hell would you ask someone that??????" In the lady's defense she also said something along the lines of "because I used to crave stuff all the time when I was pregnant with this one here..." BUT ALAS... THE DAMAGE HAD BEEN DONE ALREADY. I thought it was common knowledge that the only reason you would ask someone if they are pregnant would be if they are approximately 8 months pregnant and look like they are smuggling a beach ball full of cocaine or something. My sister was dying about the whole thing too. I'm NEVER speechless. I can always think of something to say, even if it's just "yeah well you don't know what you're talking about you stupid person" or "I have nothing to say to that. Thanks." I walked down the aisles, my food in my hand, with absolutely no appetite to eat it anymore... or anything ever again, for that matter. Usually when I am offended or mad I smile and even laugh. This was the case. Smiling like I had just aced a theory final (maybe not THAT enthusiastic... I nearly pee myself when I get a B.) I strolled, looking for my mommy and listening to my sister snicker as I repeated "I can't believe that... I've never been so offended" over and over again. I looked a bit like this:

When we finally found my mom, she was in the greeting card aisle. I told her the whole story and she laughed. I then became so angry that I scarfed down ALL of the chicken except for two pieces and gave my mom the rest of it. I then proceeded to make snide remarks for the duration of the trip about how I was "too pregnant" to do stuff even though it's COMPLETELY IMPOSSIBLE. There is not one ounce of possibility to this whole situation... but I am dieting from now until forever.

Also, this will come in handy when it comes time to audition for Pirates of Penzance soon. I don't think I will get cast as Mabel because I don't believe I have the voice for it but I certainly don't look the part. She's supposed to be the prettiest of all the maidens but I am 9 feet tall so that makes things difficult and then I am not paper thin so there we go. Zero chance. If I eat nothing but saltines, celery, and water from now till auditions there may be a 1 in a hundred chance. I'LL TAKE IT.

No more Walmart deli food ever, though. No more saying "craving".
From now on it's Subway or nothing and using the term "hankering" instead.


Doggone, I sure have a hankerin' for some daggone Subway! Them city folks sure know how to make them sandwiches!


Blegh.

A hopeless addiction to Taco Bell

I mentioned already that Ruben and I are useless without each other... maybe I didn't put it in so extreme of terms but alas, c'est vrai. When we are apart we pine for one another. I can't sleep, Ruben can't stop drinking coke... it's a big mess.

I would think that there would be an abundance of fast food wrappers left strewn across the dining room table when I returned, which is sometimes the case, but mostly I note that ALL THE DISHES ARE WAITING IN THE SINK. Ruben is a little bit allergic to dishes like I am to dogs. He doesn't sneeze like I do, though. My sneezes have been increasingly ridiculous lately. They're a bit like this:

(Key: 0 = completely silent and likely dead, 1 = like a baby whispering, 2= library voice, 3= normal speaking tone, 4= something that may wake you from a nap, 5= something that would definitely wake you from a nap, 6= Dropping a cymbal, 7= LOUD NOISES!!!!, 8=Okay, this is scary now, 9= ridiculous, 10= the loudest thing ever)**

As you can see, my sneezes are louder than a lot of things I do.

Anyway, this post isn't supposed to be about my sneezes. It's supposed to be about friendship. Anyway... lots of dishes. What do we do when we have lots of dishes and neither Ruben nor I feel like washing them?

That's right. TACO BELL.

The people at the less-janky Taco Bell in Stockton know exactly who we are. We once went there and Ruben told the cashier that he wanted "lots of fire sauce; not like two." He said he wanted twenty. Well, I counted and we certainly didn't get 20. THIRTY FIVE FIRE SAUCES. Did he use all of them? Of course not. We did get a good laugh out of it, though.

So you may be asking yourself, why in the name of all things sacred do you choose Taco Bell? The answer is mainly that it's dirt cheap, covered in sour cream and cheese, and open late. I must say that I won't be eating it a lot from now on because I am going to be dieting for the rest of my liefffffffffff probably, but it is delicious when you have been working all day and are dying of starvation. Seasoned "meat", molten cheese, rice, beans, and a slathering of delicious sour cream all come together in a delicious harmony of faux Mexican delight. I mean... it sounds like a pretty good idea.

It all gets expensive after a while, though. I am a pretty cheap person to shop for. When I did my own shopping I could get away with spending $30 for two weeks and still have stuff left over. I wonder why I only lost a little weight this summer but whatever. I suppose I was making up for all I wasn't eating at my house with what I was eating at the Taco Bell on March lane. Also, I work at Barnes and Noble and that cafe has some amaziiiing food.

But yeah. I will be going back to Stockton tomorrow and I can see Taco Bell in my near future... even though I've sworn twice that I wasn't going to eat it again.

** I would like to add that I have knowingly exaggerated these results for dramatic effect... because I'm dramatic and this is my blog, dammit.