Heading to Paree in a few hours.

I'll be blogging on rannaisinfrance.blogspot.com while I'm there.

:)

Packing Shmacking

You know what's annoying?  Packing.  Packing's annoying.  I don't enjoy packing--trying to fit the things I *need* into suitcases--making sure that the weight is under 51 pounds (that's not as easy as it may sound...although, when I write it out, it sure seems like a lot)--asking myself incessantly "do you want this, Ranna, or do you need this?"--convincing myself that that shirt that I always promise to wear, is not going to be worn, and then putting it back into my closet.
So, I start to pack, and then I end up just...not.  Finally just now, I think I finalized that I was for sure going to take, and so I'm about to start fitting everything into my suitcases (2).
OH, here's another thing.  Did you know that airlines charge for the second luggage now?  YEAH.  Yeah. How annoying is that?  50 dollars for a second luggage for international flights.  Monsieur Rene tells me they charge for the first luggage if it's domestic.  Um, excuse me, but why?  Well I mean, I know why if I think about it, but c'mon, that's so annoying!
Whatever, stop complaining, right?  Right.

You know what's funny?  The clothes that are left in my closet.  Those things that I didn't even bother to consider taking with myself.  And now I'm sitting here looking at the UGLY pink faux-cashmere sweater I bought at "New York and Company" five years ago (yeah...that just got more and more random as I kept explaining) and wondering why I don't give that sweater away.  You want it?

You know what this is?  This is me procrastinating.  This is me thinking about things that don't really matter, so I don't have to think about the two open suitcases in front of me.  Why don't I just do it?  I'm reading this book that says instead of not doing something, just do it.  Which, when I write it out like this, seems so easy, right?  But I find myself pushing things off until the very last second.  I don't know why I do it to myself, but I am the queen procrastinator.

I think I just gave myself the incentive I needed to start packing.  I just thought, "if I know it, then why don't I just try to fight it?"  And so now I'm going to fight it.  Ok.  Get ready.  Get set.  GO.

Coll-edge

I'm at George Mason with my sister today, it's Sally's first day at this school and I'm showing her the ropes. Driving to school I had to keep asking her, ARE YOU CONCENTRATING? Walking to her class too. Sal, are you concentrating? This is how you get to your class. This is how you get to Jazzmans.
Passing on the tricks I've learned along the way.

Anyway, now I'm just sitting on campus waiting for Sissy to get out of her class so we can go to her other class, and there is a line from Dewberry Hall past Jazzmans and it's all international students. Only, they're all Arabs and ITS THE MOST intriguing/annoying thing. Intriguing (that took me like 8 times to try to spell) because I just wonder where they're all from, what they're doing here, how they are feeling being in a new place. what are they doing at George Mason is the biggest question.
Annoying because I want to talk to them but im shyyyyyyyy.


Also, I'm restarting my rannaisinfrance.blogspot.com blog, and I want to give it a new look, so I'm trying to figure out the HTML coding so that I can fix it up a bit and it's just irritating. But I have all day, so I will triumph

What I want right now:

Tearjerkers

My Turn
-Titanic (can't help it)
-Toy Story 2 (when she's singing about the girl not loving her anymore. omg so sad)
-Love Actually
-Marley and Me
-Up (the beginning)
-Hotel Rwanda
-Into the Wild
-The Truman Show
-A Walk to Remember (sad, but true)
-Forrest Gump (Justin Timberlake is SO right. That part ALWAYS gets me. Also, the end, when he's sending him on the bus to go to school. soooo sad)
-The Stepmom
-ET
-Bogus
-Moulin Rouge
-Selena
-FOX AND THE HOUND
-The Color of Paradise
-La Vie en Rose
-My Girl (so right)
-The Freedom Writers
-Literally any movie where a mom or a dad dies and leaves the child orphaned and alone, I'll probably tear up

There are probably a dozen more, and Salma might be able to help me out more. What other movies?

the next minute some secretary’s running you over with a lawn mower

I was having an email conversation with my friend Michelle Spinei about this blogger  (click the link to go to her blog) today.  Her name is Tavi Gevinson and she's 13 years old.  HOWEVER, she's super uber dooper famous within the fashion community as being one of the leading fashion bloggers of our time.  She started her blog when she was 10 (I think) and since then has become this gigantic sensation.  Not only does she relay her thoughts about what is going on in the world of fashion, BUT she acts as muse to a plethora of fashion designers all over.  

I've been looking at her blog recently (last two days, but I came across it here and there before) and at first, apart from the fact that she's a 13 year old famous fashion blogger, I couldn't understand what made her so sensational.  But then I realized that what she does is pretty cool.  I mean, going through her blog up to like...September, I noticed that she puts up her inspirations, and from there comes up with her own style.  That's sort of cool, right?  Like, right now, she's inspired by Valley of the Dolls meets Drew Barrymore from Never Been Kissed.  And she puts together mood boards with pictures and knick knacks she finds in thrift stores to really bring her style together. 

While her style is strange (even for my standards) I think it's genius what she has managed to do and how she has managed to do it at such a young age.  

Michelle said that it takes dedication.  Tavi blogs every single day about different things.  If I want to be a world wide sensation, I have to do that too.  Although, looking back on my blogs, I remembered that it was exactly last year this time when I decided that my new years resolution was to become a famous blogger....oops.  Resolution, fail!  I should try to get that title in 2011.  

For now, here are some images that are inspiring me for my next photo shoot.  I just haven't chosen a model.  

Stay tuned for the actual photoshoot.  Although, I'm putting in a lot of thought for this one, so it might take a bit for it to get realized.  I'm shooting high :) 

Bellatrix and Narcissus

When Salma, my sister, and I were younger we would fight a lot.  I'm talking, hair pulling, pinching, shoving, the works.  She would twist her face into a terrifying monsteresque one and pinch me so hard that she shook.  And I would retaliate by attempting to do the same, but I used to (slash, still do sometimes) bite my nails, so I would never be able to really dig my fingernails into her skin, like she did to me.
Actually, one of my favorite stories to share is the one where I first show the two scars on my arm, and then tell people that, actually, it was Salma who did that to me...with her toenails.
Yes.  We were fighting on the bed one day, and she scratched me so hard with her toenails, that to this day I still have two scars on my arms.  Best day.
In her defense, one time, I took my jacket and I swung it at her with such force, and at such an angle, that the zipper cut into her forehead and blood started to gush out.  I'm pretty sure I thought I had just killed my sister when blood started to pour down her face.  But she didn't even need stitches.  And SHE doesn't have the scar...so besides the fact that I told you, there is no proof that such a thing ever happened.

Salma says that I spent my youth not physically abusing her, like she did to me, but emotionally abusing her with hurtful words.  But that's only because I honestly could not handle the beating up thing.  Whenever Salma would start to hit me or something, I'd start to run around the house, and she'd run after me.  But the situation would always be so funny that I would start to laugh hysterically, which made Salma even more upset and she would run even faster, prompting me to both run faster, and laugh harder.  Good times.

When we got older, our torture methods changed a little bit.  She would come into my room and refuse to get out.  So I would respond by going into her room and taking my pants off and threatening to rub my butt on her sheets.  But she would retaliate by pulling her own pants down and threatening to rub her butt on my bed.  But then we would realize that really there was no point to what we were doing because when it came down to it, we both were just standing in each others rooms with our pants half down, and our butts exposed.  So...that quickly turned old.  Although, I admit, that there have been times in the not so past that this has occurred again...

She also used to do this really annoying thing where she would come into my room and refuse to get out.  So I would try to push her out and she wouldn't move.  So then, I would start to scream "GET OUT OF MY ROOM!!!!" and she would say "ok ok but don't touch me."  But then, she would INCH her way out of the room, which made me even more mad because it took forever, so I would push her, and she would pretend that it was the strongest push, and she would RUN into the closest wall and start to scream, "MOMMMMMYYYYYY RANNNA JUST PUSHED ME INTO THE WALL!!!"  And I would scream back, "OH MY GOD MOM I DIDN'T EVEN PUSH HER THAT HARD SHE JUST RAN HERSELF INTO THE WALL!!!!" And she would laugh quietly while my mom would tell me that pushing is so dangerous what if Sal fell down the stairs...even if we were nowhere near the stairs.  It was (is) annoying

These days we don't fight very much.  In fact, our relationship has turned so smooth, that I do things to instigate fighting.  Just to keep things fresh.  For instance, I'll walk into her room and grab her Tweety.  And Sal is really sensitive when it comes to Tweety.  So that may start a brawl.  Or, the other day Salma was just sitting there minding her own business and I decided to keep pulling her hair.  And actually, she let me pull her hair a few times before she realized that, "wait a minute, Ranna is pulling my hair!"  And she responded by pulling my hair SO HARD.  It wasn't cool.

OR.  Sal made up this game where she pulls down my pants when I'm least expecting it.  And then we decided that we practice under the guidelines of just warfare, so we made up some rules.  1. You can't pull the other's pants down right after your pants have been pulled down 2. You can't pull the other's pants down if the other person is expecting it.
Only, I'm NEVER expecting it, and Salma is ALWAYS expecting it.  So whenever I even get close to her, even if Im not even thinking about pulling her pants down, she yells "I'M EXPECTING IT!  IM EXPECTING IT!"
The worst is when I'm going up the stairs, these days I literally have to RUN up the stairs, because I know if I don't, 100% Salma is going to be right behind me pulling my pants down.  So, I run up the stairs while simultaneously holding on to the waist of my pants so that even if she attempts to pull them down, she can't.
Whenever it happens, my mom makes a comment like, "girls this is so unladylike."  And then Sal and I both look at her like, who are we, Eliza Doolittle after Henry Higgins fixed her up?  Since when have we done anything that fit under the "ladylike" category?

Why did we (do we) fight?  I don't know, I guess it's a form of getting the other's attention.  Even if we're being annoying, at least we have contact with the other.  In its own way, fighting with each other brought us closer together, I suppose.

And in the end, sis is a cool sis.

My Boys Love 'Em Some Dessert

Can you stand under my umbrella?

I died in the boys bathroom at Hogwarts

I've been wanting to write, I really have, I promise.  I get on the computer and try to come up with something to say and my mind is a blank.  Which is ironic because pretty much the other 23 hours 55 minutes that I don't try to write, my mind is going a mile a minute.
It doesn't stop.  It just goes on and on and on like the energizer bunny, until I literally beg myself to stop thinking just for a second.  Just for a millisecond I wish all of the internal noise would just shut off so that I would be able to sleep the night through without waking up in panic.
Why do I do this to myself is the real question?  Why do I freak myself out and make myself sick.  I've become the most anxious and neurotic person in the span of a year.  I remember when I started college, I was proud that I could remain carefree and relaxed despite the situation.  Nothing was a big deal.  Happy go lucky.  Now, everything is a big deal.  The more I try to run from everything and push things away the more I get stuck underneath it.  And I've been pushed deeper and deeper down down down down down.  I'm becoming fossilized.
Quite literally the only time that I was able to stop thinking for a little while was the other day when I detangled rolls of yarn all morning and afternoon.  I just sat there, detangling yarn and rerolling them into balls.  And when I was finished, I was sad that there wasn't more.  So that I could focus on detangling yarn instead of untangling my life.
I want to be able to sleep until noon and wake up feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, without having woken up 8 million trillion times during the night thinking thinking thinking.  ALWAYS thinking.  Nonstop.
I wish I could be that carefree person once again.
I wish my face would stop breaking out.
I wish I could look people in the eyes when they talk to me and ask how I'm doing.
I wish that I didn't wish these things and instead I wished for more important things that actually helped other people instead of myself.
Then again, I wish so many things.  In fact, I would basically be like Jafar from Aladdin and make the genie just grant a million wishes for me instead of just having three.  Then again, did Jafar have unlimited wishes?  I don't remember.  In any case.

In any case, that's why I haven't written.  If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all. I'm just negative nancy.  A debbie downer.  moaning myrtle.

I am moaning myrtle.

Thanks a lot, king says I, in a manner well-bred

But all I want is 'enry 'iggins 'ead

The Reason Why Rainy Days Aren't My Favorite Days

1. You can never find the right umbrella.  For instance, I can't find my green umbrella that I always keep in my car.  Instead, I dig through my trunk to find an umbrella I didn't even know existed.  Upon opening it and stepping outside, I find that there is a hole and that water leaks through.  Not a very efficient umbrella.  Also, when I come to close it and step inside the library, I find that it refuses to close.  Everytime I push it down, it pops right back up and splays open.  I look around to see if anyone is watching this ridiculous event take place.  No.  Everyone else is safely inside, dry.

2. Puddles.  Everywhere.  Puddles everywhere=wet shoes, wet jeans.  One of the worst things about Uggs, despite their comfort level, is the fact that they soak through so easily.  So, the second my foot steps into that puddle, I feel the rush of water hitting my feet and sending a chill up my body.  At least since they're boots they keep my jeans dry.  That's one of my pet peeves.  Wet jeans.  Gross.

3. The only thing that I really would like to do on rainy days is a) sleep b) lie around doing nothing c)drink tea d) wear comfy thick socks e) watch Glee f) NOT study for my Bio exams g)have so much fun doing those things.

In conclusion, the only reason people say that they like rainy days is because they equate to lazy days.  However, if one has things to do on a rainy day and those things involve walking outside, then rainy days are not even close to being enjoyable.  My point is: I should have stayed home today.

I wish my life was Glee Club.

Yesterday I started to watch Glee.  Out of boredom...but mostly procrastination, I suppose.  I found the first episode and started to play it, and by the 5th episode (yes, I watched that many...plus maybe 4 more) I was hooked.  From the what seems at first glance to be a cheesy plot but upon closer review you see it actually says a lot more, to the singing, to the dancing, to Rachel, Quinn, Puck, Finn and the boy in the wheelchair...I could go on, but I wont.  From the computer screen to my heart.  I love it.

Today I was sitting in my lab humming "Stop in the Name of Love," when I looked up and said to one of my lab partners (funny story, her last name is Saeedi too, how weird is that?) "Wouldn't it be great if our lives were like Glee?"
She looked at me and laughed and said, "Yeah but my voice sucks."
Well so does mine.
My other lab partner looked at me and said, "My boyfriend laughs at me when I sing, so I only sing when I'm alone."

And I started to think how funny it was that in Glee they glorify differences among the students.  To be in Glee, there is something about you that is different, that doesn't fit into the realms of "normal society."  But here, in our world, we would be the outcasts in a Glee-ian society.  I know I wouldn't fit in if I couldn't hit that high F note, or if I can't tell the difference whether my voice is coming out sharp or flat.

I guess I just have to keep singing to myself and pretend that I can break into song in response to any situation.  Pretend shpretend.

Aint nothing gonna break my stride, aint nothing gonna slow me down.  No no.  I've got to keep on moving.  I can sing if I want to, I can leave my friends behind.  Its my life, and it's now or never, I aint gonna live forever, I just wanna sing while I'm alive.

Card Time

Today I wrote a card out:

"Will you marry me?
-Yes?
-No?
-Maybe?
Love, Will "

I felt like I was imposing on someone's life.  At the same time, I'm so curious to know what the response was.

Yesterday I wrote a card out:

"If I was a dog or a cat, I would pray that you were my owners."

It's sweet in a really "I like to be dominated" sort of way.

It's Tradition