Part of Your World

When I was little, I wanted to be a marine biologist. I devoured books about ocean life, I spent every moment I could in a pool or, if we were in Alabama, in the ocean. I went through about 20 goldfish and named them all; I knew I was going to be the best damn marine biologist ever. However, once I reached high school I realized I was no good at science. I took Honors Chem and AP Chem, but I realized during AP Chem that science was not a road I wanted to travel. I absolutely hate it when I ask a question and the answer is, "It doesn't really matter. What matters is that it is that way." I think I drove my first chemistry teacher wild with my questions.

The whole reason I bring this up is because that desire to be a marine biologist hit me like a ton of bricks today. I went to see Disney's Oceans today with some friends and that cinematography is absolutely stunning. It's not just movie magic, though. The whole way our world works astounds me. The intricate ecosystems that exist all over the world? No way that came from some random explosion trillions of years ago. How can you not know those systems were made by our Lord?

I love water creatures because they are so magical. They're graceful, but they're wild. Well, they're wild animals, so maybe that was me just typing idiocy. Get used to it. It happens a lot. I really wish I could communicate to you the way that movie made me feel. Have you ever seen a movie that makes you feel like any minute, you could leap out of your seat and into the screen? When you feel with every fiber of your being that what you see on the screen, the majesty of the waves, the salt on the air, and the cries of the whales, that is where you're supposed to be? If you haven't felt that sort of thing before, well, I'm sorry. And I'm also going to stop explaining because I don't think I'm doing that sensation justice. Good night.

Blame It on the Girls (Or Boys, Considering I Don't Swing That Way)

***Disclaimer: I definitely wrote this post a week ago.

Do you ever talk just to keep from thinking too much? I do that, quite a lot. Now, read that again. I talk because I don't want to think. Does it look as ridiculous to you as it does to me as I write it? Yeah? I thought so too. Running your mouth without even thinking about it first is a bad combination, y'all. Really bad. And let me tell you why ... because even if you do come off as flirty and as fun as you're attempting to look, you're going to feel like an idiot at the end of the night, because invariably you're going to say something moronic, and then say something more moronic to compensate, just because you don't want anyone to know that you're not feeling at ease. So what exactly would be the cure for this dilemma? Always feel at ease.

Thunder Before Lightning

That's right, you're about to be struck by lightning. Figuratively, of course. That is, it's more like lightning in the form of thoughts. Probably somebody somewhere is going to get offended by this blog, because this is the only other place besides my journal and my mother's bedroom that I am not going to censor my thoughts. At *all*. It's going to be random musings, yada yada yada, all the time. Makes me feel kind of reckless.

Have you ever felt insulted when someone uses his/her "professional" voice with you? You know, when you call UPS and the CSR stumbles over her words so quickly you're not even sure she knows what she's really saying and before you realize yes, she really does know what she's talking about, the call is over? Or when someone calls in to your call center and she's all, "I need this and this and this and I need it now." And then what you want to say is, "Ex-cuse me? You need it? Use your words, woman!" But instead, because you get paid to kiss ass, you have to say, "Oh, okay, we can do that. No problem, ma'am. Yes, ma'am, I understand your dissatisfaction. I'm sorry about that. Of course we can get that to you tomorrow. What? You don't like the price of the shipping? I'm sorry ma'am, but there's nothing I can do about that. Yes, ma'am, I realize you're a octuple-diamond-star in the company, but unfortunately we can't adjust shipping prices. Alright ma'am, hold just one moment for my supervisor."

Okay, so maybe I went a little overboard complaining about a job I love and that I'm lucky to have, but it's been a long day. As a certain eight-year-old I know would say, "Eat me!" But I'm getting off-topic. I think the "professional" voice is offensive. Do you know why? Because it's condescending. It's saying "you're not worth my time, so I'm going to get you off the call as quickly as possible." It's saying "you're too stupid to really understand what's going on, so I'm going to explain it to you as I would to a sixth grader." At least, that's when I use my professional voice. If I were a caller, I would much rather hear a friendly, polite voice, as opposed to a cold, harried one. Because that's what a professional voice is, people! Cold and harried. Like a harpy.