On The Sniffles (and the Coughs and the AchesandPains)

So I’ve been coughing up a lung all day and am now fully dosed-up on some heavy-duty cough syrup.  So, if nothing I say makes sense, please blame it on the codeine-induced lunacy.  Thank you, flu season.

Being sick in college sucks.  So hard.  I have to say, while I absolutely hate being sick (because, really, what kind of sick, masochistic lunatic LIKES being sick?), it has its upsides.  First of all, I love the fact that I can sleep all day, with no judgment.  I mean, yes, it’s more that I get to be so physically exhausted that even if I were being judged for sleeping at 4 in the afternoon, I wouldn’t have the energy to force myself to care, but still.  Though, I mean, I can rarely find the energy to force myself to care anyway.  Sorry I’m not sorry.

Another major upside is that, if I manage to gather the strength necessary to leave my room, I can do so without caring how I look.  Normally, it can take me an hour in the morning to go from looking like a sleep-deprived cross between an actual walking corpse and a permanent inpatient in the terminal disease ward.  From beginning to end, showering, drying hair, moisturizing, fixing hair, applying enough makeup to actually look like a living being, dressing, deciding I hate my whole closet, dressing again, grabbing a coffee to get my brain to catch up, and finally heading out the door takes about an hour and a half. 

When I’m sick, fuck all of that.  Who cares if I look ill without makeup?  I AM ill.  Get over it.  Also, for all you leggings-aren’t-pants haters, get over it.  I’m wearing a baggy t-shirt and leggings because it feels like not wearing clothes at all and I already feel like crap.  Suck it up.

Finally, and by far my favorite, are the no-worries eating habits that come with being sick.  The running logic in my family when someone was sick, they could eat whatever they could hold down.  This means, when I’m sick, I want nothing more than a grilled cheese sandwich and a massive bowl of soup and, regardless of how many calories that may contain and how much my thighs might hate me as a result, I can eat it without an ounce of guilt.  I feel icky, do not judge me for anything that makes me feel better.

Also, why am I the one person who DOESN’T get drowsy after taking a codeine-based cough syrup?  NOT TIRED WAHH. So glad I didn't have classes today, so at least I got some sleep then.

Snifflingly yours,

Rachel Leigh

On Being Tall

I have spent the last couple of weeks using the phrase "#tallgirlproblems" (no, I do not pronounce the hashtag) to describe my life.  As a 5'11" female, I was happy to find a Twitter account that sympathized with my Tall Girl Problems.

What is a Tall Girl Problem?  Like a #firstworldproblem or #collegeproblem, these problems are problems that exist only because I am in a comfortable enough position to complain about them.  Tall Girl Problems are problems that exist solely in virtue of absurd height.

#TallGirlProblems

Never being able to find pants that fit.

They do not make pants that are made to fit legs that make up 2/3 of your height.  Everything I own fits like a pair of floods.  Also, good luck wearing knee-high boots or knee socks.  They're great if, by "knee," you mean "awkwardly squeezing your mid-calf."

Not knowing how to walk in heels.

5'11" + 3" heels = ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING.  As such, I have never learned how to walk in heels, which is great for those rare occasions when you actually have to wear them.  When my ankle is in three pieces on the floor because I can't balance in a pair of heels, you will understand.

Constantly being asked to get things for shorter friends.

Can you reach that?  Can you just grab that?  I can't reach...help me out?

Constantly being asked to get things for strangers.

Can you get that down off the top shelf?

Being taller than your prom date...and your Dad.

I wish I were kidding.  Love you, Dad.

Nobody gets it.

You know what's great?  Complaining about your incredibly inconvenient height, and having everyone respond "But you're, like, MODEL-tall."  As if that makes it better.  It's actually kind of irritating.

Fellow tall girls, I love you. I delight in your presence. But if I accidentally elbow one more person because my arms are so freaking long, I might consider donating my lower-legs to the vertically-challenged.

#TallGirlProblems,
Rachel Leigh

On Life, Some Politics, and Things

Darling readers, I am so sorry I've already been so terrible about my New Years Resolutions.  Clearly, I haven't been blogging more frequently, seeing as I haven't posted in 17 days and clearly I'm a horrible person.  As for keeping my room clean -- 3 times in the last week (3!), I have gone looking for something in my room and found it in one of my shoes.  Keeping it classy, Rachel, keeping it classy.

Today was the SOPA protest, which I'm sure you all know is something that means a lot to me.  I kind of wish Google had taken a more active approach to its "blackout," but the number of internet sites that came out in solidarity with anti-PIPA/SOPA users is truly amazing.

This blog has been brought to you by a free and open internet, and I am incredibly proud that so many people have shown their support today.

In other news, all (or at least my) eyes turn back to Iowa to get into the issue of a possible voting miscount in the Iowa caucuses.  And when a victory is clinched by 8 votes, one minor miscount can drastically change the outcome.  But let's be serious, part of the reason I care is because I want to go back to the brief but beautiful moment when my caucus-results Facebook status was accurate.  Not because I like Rick Santorum (the man terrifies every fiber of my being), but because I just don't like being wrong.

Stubbornly yours,
Rachel Leigh

On 2012

Happy New Year to the darlingest of readers!

As the Christmas food comas and the around-the-clock napping of Winter Break begin to wear off (because I'm headed back to campus in six days!), it seems like a wonderful time to welcome in 2012, the year we're all going to die and the first presidential election I am old enough to vote in.
On a side note, after 40 years, it may be time to retire Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve.  Not because it's anything short of excellent programming, but because I spend most of the final countdown cringing at the fact that Dick Clark can barely talk and his spray-tan is one of the most atrocious things to which I have ever born witness.

Anyway, I'm absolutely horrendous at making and keeping New Years Resolutions.  Some years I just forget to make them altogether.

This year, I've resolved to:

1. Blog More.  Which I know I say every time I go on an accidental hiatus and then come back practically in tears and begging for your forgiveness, but you do mean a lot to me and you deserve my love and attention, don't you, darling readers?
2. Lose Weight.  Buuuuuut...let's be serious.  My diet plan consists of an overwhelming inability to cut energy drinks, coffee, and croissants out of my diet, and my exercise regimen consists of walking to and from class like a chicken with its head cut off.  While I admire myself for setting this goal, I doubt my actual abilities to see it through.
3. Clean My Room More.  This resolution may well kill me, but my room needs to stop looking like a blast zone.
4. Study Abroad.  If I manage to pull this off, Fall 2012 will be filled with posts and photos of glorious adventures around Europe.

Anyway, if you see me and I appear to be ignoring these resolutions, please smack the coffee out of my hands, drag me to the gym, and yell at me to post more and check the status of my DIS application.

Optimistically yours,
Rachel Leigh