Stream of Conscienceness

I've read before, that when you can't think of anything to blog about, just set a timer and just write your thoughts out as they come to you. Like, no editing or hesitating, just write out what comes to your head at that moment. So that's what we're gonna try here. I tried playing this game, or a version of this game on a road trip with Nate once. I said, "Ok, I'm gonna say a word and you say the first thing that pops into your head!" And it went something like this:

Me: grass

Nate: grass

Me: car

Nate: car

Me: Albuquerque 

Nate: Albuquerque

I'm like, "That's not how you play, you have to say the first thing that comes to your mind besides the word I just used." And he said, "I can't help it, when you say 'grass' the first thing I think of is grass." So you know, we don't play that game anymore.

But anyway, back to this writing game thing. 3, 2, 1, and action:

This kind of reminds me of that time I took a class on creative writing and the first 15 minutes of the class was spent "journaling." That was when Nate was gone for basic training, and so every morning for the first 15 minutes of class I'd whine to my journal about how much I missed Nate and how it's so hard and blah blah blah.

How embarrassing. Also, I totally just spelled the word "whine" like "wine." Talk about a stream of conscienceness. 

You want to know how I remember to spell "conscience?" 

Con science. The word con, and the word science. Cause for some reason that's one of those words I can never remember how to spell. Or say. It sounds weird when I say it too. But since this is a blog, and this is the written word you can't really listen to me say the word "conscience."

You know what I was thinking about the other day? If I didn't know me, and I was looking at my Facebook or Instagram account, I'd think I was some sort of drinker:

 I'm not, really. I mean, I like to drink, but I don't drink to get drunk. I've actually only been drunk drunk one time in my life and it was on the night of my bachelorette party. I threw up and everything. The whole 9 yards. I followed my out-of-town bridesmaid around all night trying to convince her "I'm not a cliche! I'm not usually like this! I swear I'm not a cliche, I don't get drunk at my bachelorette!" 

Except I did. And I was. I don't like being drunk though because A.) I hate throwing up, and B.) I feel like that's how crime happens - when you're out of your mind and have no idea what's going on. Call me paranoid...

Speaking of paranoia - ish (don't tell Nate I said that). You wanna know what I learned from my husband the other day? He said when you sleep, you should always sleep with your arms out from under your covers so that if someone breaks into your house and sneaks up on you while you're still sleeping, they can't wrap you up like a burrito and do whatever they want to you (e.g., suffocate you or something), and you'll have your arms free to fight back. Except I added the "like a burrito" part...he didn't use those words. A burrito actually doesn't sound too bad right now.

Sometimes when I scroll through Instagram I end up Googling some of the things people hashtag. Like, I didn't know "bae" was a thing. And I've definitely typed "what does chuuuch mean?" into my search bar a time or two. At first I just thought it was a typo for "church." I think I just need to listen to more rap music maybe? 

I've been sponsoring a couple blogs over the last few months and each one of them requests a photo, and I've found out that I don't have a lot of pictures of just me. I know, what kind of a blogger am I?? I have to look deep into the iPhoto archives for pictures of just myself. Maybe I just need to get over my selfie-phobias and channel my inner blogger and start taking some? Or just bite the bullet and ask whoever I'm with, "hey will you take a picture of me?" I hate asking that question. It's literally one of the worst questions to ask. I hate doing it. It makes me sound so vain. 

You're so vain. 

You probably think this song is about you, don't you, don't you??...

And that's where I think I'll stop for the night before this turns into some sort of pseudo-blog-karoake-thing. That and plus the Coyotes and the Suns are playing tonight and I need to go lay claim on the TV before Nate gets to it. He's fixing the lawn mower right now. How does he know how to fix everything?? Like literally, everything: cars, lawn mowers, firearms, refrigerators. How do you know how to fix all that?? Where did you learn all of this?? I couldn't hardly figure out that the washing machine had a separate setting for fabric softener. Ugh I know, I'm a terrible woman.   

Let's do this again sometime shall we?