I am the worst blogger ever

I have completely forgotten about blogging lately. I am awful. But in my defense, I have been super busy though. Unfortunately I have not been busy doing outdoorsy things or dieting, but still busy. I have decided to transfer back to Lee University this fall and I am so excited! I am going to be majoring in Anthropology because I like people and feeling self important. I haven't decided what I want to minor in yet, but I am leaning toward Spanish. I would love to be able to be a translator. Alas, moving back to TN means I must push back my outdoor girl deadline until April or so. But it will happen! School will be out in a couple weeks and I will have much more time to write then. And I will leave it at that.

a mi me gusta leer

While procrastinating (thanks, StumbleUpon), I came upon a list of what somebody thought the 100 Best Novels to be. The list can be found aqui. I want to read all of them. Read them with me. We can have a book club.
What books do you think should have made the list?

(The ones I've read are in bold)
1984 by George Orwell
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky
Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Animal Farm by George Orwell
Lord of the Flies by William Golding
The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
Harry Potter Series by J.K. Rowling
Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
Ulysses by James Joyce
Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
East of Eden by John Steinbeck
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut
Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes
The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis
Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand
A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey
The Stranger by Albert Camus
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
Moby Dick by Herman Melville
The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce
The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
Remembrance of Things Past by Marcel Proust
Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card
Watership Down by Richard Adams
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman
A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway
Life of Pi by Yann Martel
Middlemarch by George Eliot
A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole
On the Road by Jack Kerouac
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
The Stand by Stephen King
Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden
David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
Dracula by Bram Stoker
The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky
Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy
Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving
The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk
To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway
Dune by Frank Herbert
The Trial by Franz Kafka
Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery
Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham
Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon
The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas
The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
Persuasion by Jane Austen
The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
Atonement by Ian McEwan
Emma by Jane Austen
Beloved by Toni Morrison
Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon
Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov
I, Claudius by Robert Graves
Light in August by William Faulkner
Angels and Demons by Dan Brown
All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque
The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne

I am starting to panic

I am in my third year of college. Not so bad, right? There are thousands and thousands of people who are in their third year of college. The problem with my third year of college is that I am completely and totally lost. I have been to as many college as years I have been out of high school. I don't know what I want to do and that is a terrifying thing. I am currently in the process of trying to find yet another college to transfer to and trying to finalize my major (which has changed many times also). So far, I have only figured out these things: I like to read. A lot and different things. I like to write. Strictly creative writing though. I like to knit. I am no good at it.

What can I do with these things?

Spring and the like

Spring is here. I know, I know, it's beautiful, and warm, and new starts are so wonderful, right? Wrong? I (mostly) hate the spring. It's hot and bugs come out to play and pollen comes out to haunt me. Worst of all, I think a family of ugly red wasps have taken up residence behind the mirror on the driver side door of Mustang Sally (my car). Actually, the real worst of all is this awful headache I've had all day. Despite all this, I still think that spring is really gorgeous. I mean, I love watching everything come alive. From the safety and air conditioned comfort that is my house.

I just wish that Georgia weather didn't go from Arctic chill to 1.5-miles-from-the-surface-of-the-sun hot. Seriously, it was almost 90 degrees on Easter Sunday.

And we are only a few weeks into this glorious season.

On another note, school starts back tomorrow. I have to be in Waco at the chipper hour of 8 o'clock am for sociology. And then I have the class I've been avoiding and dreading for the past three years--public speaking. Those of you that know me know that I DO NO speak in public. I go through great lengths to avoid answering questions in class. It's not that I don't know the answer. I normally do. It's just that I really, really, REALLY hate speaking in front of people. I don't know if it's because I have a slight lisp that I am ashamed of, or that my brain works to fast for my mouth to keep up with and everything gets jumbled, or what, I just know that the thought of public speaking petrifies me. My hands get sweaty, my heart starts pounding, and I feel like I can't breathe. Similar to what happens when Mom mentions that it would be really nice for me to babysit my little brothers.
This should be an interesting quarter.

I am scared of bees.

And not just a little scared of bees. I am A LOT terrified of bees. Granted I have about ten thousand irrational fears, like ghost movies at night, Michael Myers, bad food, hairs in my bath water, chickens and spiders getting in my hair, burning myself on the oven (though those last two may not be that irrational), but bees make the number one spot on this list (a list that may or may not prove me to be a crazy). I am so scared of bees that it is almost impossible for me to even step outside my door. For some reason, bees like to congregate right outside the doors of our house. Whenever I gather up enough motivation and/or courage to venture outside I must go through a simple procedure to make it safely to my car. First, I open the door. I can either do this slowly, peeking out the side, or I can fling it open in a terrified frenzy. I usually pick the first option. After looking around for any scary flying insects, I can start the journey to my car or wherever it is I need to go. Second, I run like the devil is chasing me. I might even do some crazy stops and starts and zig zags.

In fact, I think bees provide all of my outdoor exercise.
But they also provide me an excuse not to go outside at all.


I hope everyone had a great Easter. I've been extremely busy this weekend. My baby cousin, Madison, is staying with us while her mommy and daddy are away. She doesn't do much. Just lays there and pees a lot. Not really my thing, but I've been helping as much as needed. Totes waiting at least eight years before having any small children of my own.

But like the bees give me an excuse to avoid the outdoors like the plague, she has been giving me an excuse to avoid the gym. The closest thing I've gotten to excercising or the outdoor this weeken has been looking at North Faces online. Oh well.

Happy Easter! He is risen!


I'm wearing my new yellow peep toes. So cute. =]

Motivation. Or lack thereof.

I didn't go to the gym today. I am a terrible, terrible outdoor girl. Instead of killing myself on the ab coaster with my slightly muscle-head boyfriend (more on him later), I went to the mall with some of the lovely ladies in my family. And two of the cutest baby girls ever. Not even kidding. While this excursion was infinitely more fun, I am now sitting on my bed amid stuffed animals, cook books, and my pink DS, feeling completely, completely guilty. I need some motivation. I've never really been great (or even mediocre) at motivating myself. Maybe I need to tape some pictures of some skinnies to my fridge or something. I need help. What motivates you to excercise?


On the plus side, I did get some really great peep toes. They're yellow and awesome.