Pink facebook pictures and wearing purple.

So, I got on facebook the other day, to see that a few peoples pictures had turned pink.

"Entewesting..." (Like interesting, but with a funny voice). I think to myself. It must be a thing. Like when all the women gang up to confuse men with their statuses. But unfortunately, the reason for these pink pictures was made perfectly clear on the wall of the person with the pink picture. It's to raise awareness for beast cancer.

Now before you go thinking that I'm the worlds worst person, let me say that cancer is one of the most horrible things on this earth. It eats you away from the inside and it's awful. I've yet to be directly effected by it, but I'm sure some day I will be, because of the statistics. I am not a total bitch with a heart of ice. Cancer is bad.

But seriously. Who does like cancer? Does anybody support it? Do we really need to raise awareness for it? Ok, let me rephrase. We should raise awareness, but do we need to convince people that it's bad? Does anybody like cancer?

When I looked at the page that turns your picture pink, I saw that when people did it, this organization would give money in support of breast cancer research.

That sounded good at first. But then I got to thinking.

Seriously? You have to have a certain amount of people pledge to you before you give money. It'd be one thing if it were a Pro-life company, or something in support of stem cell research. Something where there are actually people opposing your stance. But who is going to be like "Nope, I refuse to support breast cancer research. It's against my morals." This company is just being weird and stingy. Because everybody hates cancer. You make people take a stance on which there is no opposition before you donate money. Not cool.

Another thing that's been bugging me was purple shirt day.

Again, I am not homophobic, nor do I hate gay people.

I couldn't figure out what bugged me about it until I read one of my most entertainingly sarcastic facebook friends status:

"Good job today everyone. Homophobia's been defeated."

I think I actually lawl'd at that. Because it's probably the truest thing ever.

Is wearing a purple shirt really going to stop the bullying and abuse that young gay kids face? I get that we're showing support, but why not show support with your lives, instead of an outward expression that anyone who isn't apart of the facebook event won't get. Because I assure you, by wearing that purple shirt, you did absolutely nothing to stop homophobia. Did you wear purple the next day? Did your desire to stop hate crimes decrease? Probably not. It was essentially pointless. Unless you count the sense of superiority or accomplishment you felt, but that is completely self indulgent.

Why do we have to have days or months to raise awareness for something. Why can't we just spread love and kindness to everyone we meet all the time? Why can't we support things that we care about year round instead of one month out of twelve?

Kirsten is a mean-y face. Kirsten hates gay people. Kirsten loves breast cancer. She also eats babies, kicks puppies, has over due library books and worships satan.*

Whatever.

*Actually, one of these things is true. I'll let you decide.

My phone

In its original form, this post was supposed to go a little something like this:
Sunday night, I left my phone charger in Reagans car and I cannot retrieve it until Friday when she can drag her butt up here to give it to me. So until then I shall exist in a sad state. One without a phone.

I know have to trudge through the day without any means of communicating with the world not around me. I might as well be Amish.

This is where I'd say that if you're one of the 5 people who text me on a regular basis, I don't newly hate you. If you're the rest of the world, this doesn't effect you in the least.

Then I'd drone on about how difficult life has been since I haven't been able to text or call people, and I'd probably do it like an old pioneers journal or letter to home. You know like:
Pa,

Today has been harder than yesterday, without any communication with the outside world I darn near think I've been rekilectin' those days by the river where you'd take me a fishin' and teach me how to survive in the wilderness if I ever had to. Well Pa, this is worse.

Etc. Etc.

Blah blah blah, the worlds tiniest violin, playing just for you.

But that is not how this post goes.

This post goes like: Sunday night I came back to school from home, only to realize that I had left my phone charger in Reagans car.

See it starts off the same, but ends very differently.

Two nights ago, I assumed that my phone would be dead in a matter of minutes, seeing as how it was flashing the little help-me-I'm-dying thingy up in the corner (Yes, that's the technical term). I shed a tiny tear of unearthly sadness. I would be cut off from the world for what would seem like an eternity.

But today, for some weird reason, I looked at my phone, perhaps out of habit, and it was still on.

What? How can this be? Is it some sort of miracle?

I saw that I had a number of texts, quickly responded to them, and waited for it to die a heroes death.

I checked it a few minutes later, and someone had responded, to my response. Confused, I responded to that response to my response, and waited for it to slowly die a heroes death.

But I kept getting texts.

I continuously checked it through out the day, and while it still blinked "Battery Low" but even still, it lasted for hours and hours later.

It was seriously the weirdest thing ever. It was like Hanukkah, but for my cell phone.

I cannot stress how weird it was. I mean, this phone should have been dead a long time ago, but it was still alive and kicking.

And this is where I could relate it to something deep, but I really don't feel like it. Make your own meaningful connections, lazy!

But yeah, it's dead now. All good things must come to an and, and everything that lives must die. But like the phoenix, it shall rise again from the flame of its destruction. I have faith in you little crappy phoenix phone.

I'm pretty sure this qualifies as my obligatory "Kirsten Johnson my phone is dead. If you're trying to get a hold of me catch me on here" status. But like I said, it'd be pretentious since there are only like 4 people I text who I don't see on a regular basis.

Meh. I might die. This shall indeed be very difficult.

Not that you really cared, or anything.

I've changed.

I'm not sure when or how but I have. It's been recent. And the thing is that it's for the better. Most change is. Why then, do we hate change so much? Because I know that I certainly do.

It's kind of like working out. I dread doing it. I put it off, or just plain don't do it at all. I don't know why, because when I do work out, I really enjoy it and I feel awesome. Not saying that sometimes it doesn't hurt, but the end result is worth it. That's what change is for me.

My transformation has recently been called to my attention. And by recently, I mean like five minutes ago. I have always been more self-aware than most people, but for some reason I'd blinded myself to the entirety of my metamorphosis if you will. But once I realized it, I don't know how I missed it.

-I like Taylor Swift.

If you know anything about me, you know that I used to harbor a deep hatred for her music. However, slowly, she's crept into my life. And I've decided not to fight it. I know some people will judge me, and others will stand up and applaud the fact that this hopeless romantic finally stopped fighting the sappy music that her soul so desired, but whatever, I don't really care.

-I love Nick Jonas.

I don't think this is a surprise to anyone. I've recently started introducing myself to people by saying "Hi, I'm Kirsten, I love Nick Jonas." It's a 180 from the Kirsten who hated the Jonas Brothers for no apparent reason. No, it's not the highest quality music, but that doesn't mean that they should die. But back to Nick. Seriously? Have you seen him?

http://allieiswired.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/nick-jonas-does-parade-magazine.jpg

Kind of a stud. And by "kind of", I mean, 100% and completely, and by "stud" I mean the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth. And have you heard any of his Les Mis stuff? Please don't tell me that he's not talented. He's the Jo Bro with the skills and the talent, and he totally knows that the whole Disney Charade is a joke. You can see it in his eyes.

(Ok, I did a search, looking for one of those imfamous pictures where you can tell that Joe and Kevin are taking it way too seriously, and Nick is just like "these guys..." but I came up with this instead.)

http://www.disneydreaming.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/Jonas-Brothers-Billboard-Chart.png

Shall we examine this? We'll start with Kevin. Sweet little Kevin. He's so earnest. He's usually the background of my phone, because of the ridiculous faces he makes, that amuse me so. Sometimes I watch his antics and wonder, "What does his wife think?". Does she find it endearing? Is she embarrassed? Does she choose not to pay attention to Camp Rock 2? Because I would if I were her.

Let's move on to Nick. Beautiful, beautiful Nick. Look into his gorgeous dark eyes. You can see it all there. "Hey guys, would you like so coat tales to ride? Yeah, I made these guys." He's 100% aware that the whole Disney thing is just a place holder. A place to get his extremely talented foot in the door. He's just waiting, and slowly building up his Administration, so he can take over the world with his skill... Ok, maybe not that far, but you get the idea. I could continue talking about him, but I'll refrain. You're welcome.

And now, the main event. The thing that makes you laugh harder than you've laughed in a long time. Joe. Oooohhohohoho Joe. First off, why? Why are you looking in the mirror like that? And on top of that, why is there a mirror in this picture? Who decided that it'd be a good idea? "Hey, let's put a mirror in this picture, and have Joe look at himself in it. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

Wow. Tangent. In the highest form. I should win a medal or something.

But anyway. Back to what this is actually supposed to be about.

You can judge me, or whatever but I really don't care. Because what I think I've realized is that I'm ok with myself. I'm cool with the fact that I enjoy Taylor Swifts cheesy, girly music. I'm cool with the fact that I have a crush on a Disney star. And the thing is that if I can be ok with those things, I can be ok with a lot of things.

I'd recently been frustrated with myself, and my apparent inability to attract male attention. Or, rather my inability to attract a guy who isn't totally the opposite of what I want. People have been entering first-quarter-of-college relationships, which in my opinion is one of the dumbest things ever. And despite everything that I knew, I couldn't help but feel like there was something wrong with me. Like the fact that a guy wasn't on his knees professing his eternal love to me meant that I was a romantic dud.

But hey, I really enjoy being single, and for the first time in a long time, I'm happy with myself. But the thing is that it's taken me a while to recognize that in myself. Would I like someone to like me, or think I'm pretty or that the sun shone out of my ass (goodness I adore that movie)? Yes, I think everyone wants that. But I don't need it. I'm good with myself, and so I'm going to wait for something and someone truly remarkable to sweep me off my feet. Yes, I just used that phrase. Someone whose smart and funny and loves the Lord and I honestly wouldn't mind one tiny bit if he looked a little like Nick Jonas.

Ok, that was like word-vomity. Sorry. Sometimes you gotta clean the pipes.

Sunchips bags

Don't play like that, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Recently, the Frito Lay product Sunchips came out with a compostable bag. (Yes, compostable. It's not a real word, but it's what it says on the back of the bag. I thought the same thing.) It's an over all good idea. Save the environment and what not. Good for you, guys.

But we all remember that first time, reaching for the Sunchips bag at Kroger and having the entire store look at you for the ruckus you've caused. You've disturbed the peace, you may have even torn a hole in the time space continuum with that noise. Put the Sunchips bag down, sonny, it's better this way.

That bag is loud man. For real. Like, louder than an inanimate object should ever be. So loud, that we have a rule in our dorm. "Do not eat Sunchips while someone is sleeping." It's hard core.

I can imagine the scientist in the lab that day.

Scientist #1: Hey, we've created a compostable bag. But it's louder than that time the Beatles were on Ed Sullivan.

Scientist #2: Let's keep it that way just to mess with people.

This incredibly loud bag, mixed with the fact that I love Harvest Cheddar Sunchips more that oxygen, often times creates a dilemma with me. I hate you Sunchips bag. I hate you with a burning passion. Why are you so loud? Why do you make it impossible for me to eat Sunchips in peace? Why do you insist on making my life as awkward as possible?

My most recent encounter with a Sunchips bag happened yesterday.

I was in the store, hoping to find something nomy to nom on. The C-Store (The convenient store on campus. Way to be super clever WSU) is usually out of Harvest Cheddar Sunchips, which makes my soul sad. But not this time. It took a second glance, since it was in a pink bag, supporting Susan G. Koman for the Cure, but lo and behold, in all it's glory, there sat my favorite thing in the whole world. I reach for it, knowing that the inevitable is coming. Closer, closer and closer until I finally latch on to it, holding my breath.

And nothing. Not the obnoxious sound I had come to expect.

At first I was happy. Hooray! No horrid noise every time I want to enjoy my favorite multi grain corn chip. But slowly, the sinking feeling that something was wrong set in. I didn't feel the release I had hoped for. I didn't enjoy the fact that the bag didn't make me want to punch holes in the walls. It was an emptiness, as if the obnoxious crunching sound of the unknown material was filling up some sort of void in me, and it was now absent, leaving a vacuous hole in my soul.

What would life be without them? How many laughs to the ensue? How many awkward silences to they make more awkward? How else would you know if someone is touching your Sunchips?

With this on my mind, I purchased the silent bag, and trudged back to my dorm.

But then, the skys opened up and voices from heaven rained down.

Nah, not really, I just read the back of the bag.

It was talking about how the pink bag supports breast cancer research, and that it was NOT a compostable bag, and if you wanted to buy a compostable bag, look for the not pink bag.

Oh, you tricked me Sunchips. Making me think that my soul was slowly withering away.

But sometimes it take something like that to make you realize what you have.

And yeah, that was my cheesy attempt to make this post have some kind of substance.

But side note, don't you find it odd that you can either support breast cancer research or save the environment? Why can't we do both at the same time, huh, Sunchip bag people?

p.s. I'm pretty sure that those bags don't even decompose.