Cheese

It's fun to watch people talk about American cheese. Often, it seems as if they're afraid that if they give even the faintest impression that they like American cheese, they will be seen as unintelligent, un-cultured, or four years old.

"I only like it in grilled-cheese, and even then only if it's still hot."

"I only like it on big sandwiches where there are a lot of other things so I can't really taste it" (news flash: I think that means you don't like it.)

"I don't like it at all. Even when I was a kid. That's how refined I am."

"I don't even like other cheeses that were stocked on the same aisle as American cheese, I find it so disgusting."

Why is it that everyone rallies together against American cheese, but very few people complain about the unnaturality of Cheese Whiz? How does the fact that it's air-compressed slide by so easily? How about Mac & Cheese? Hellooooo, powdered!!

To conclude, let me just set this straight: I like American cheese. But not really. (?)

Just Dance

*WARNING: THE FEELINGS EXPRESSED IN THIS BLOG SOUND LIKE THEY'RE COMING FROM AN ANGSTY TEENAGER, BUT THEY ACTUALLY BELONG TO A COLLEGE STUDENT IN HER TWENTIES, THUS RENDERING THEM EVEN MORE SCARY*

Well, I guess it's not as bad as all that, but I do sound VERY whiny in this post. Forgive me.

First, I need to explain that I've been kind of down lately. Not for one specific reason or another; I guess there are a lot of contributing factors. My finals are right around the corner, I've been on an emotional roller coaster lately concerning my love life, my financial situation, groceries, job search, attempts at weight loss. You name it, it's made it into my daily queue of things to worry about. And to top it all off, I had to spend the entire evening alone in my apartment tonight. Alone with these awful, weighing down thoughts. *shudder* I get all depressed just thinking about it. I tried to drown my troubles in the comedy stylings of Brian Regan and Jim Gaffigan, but that can only delay it for so long.

Nope, I've found, time and time again, that the best way to make me feel better is: Dancing. I just thought "Screw it!" and put on my "Dance-ish" playlist, turned off all the lights, and flung myself mercilessly about the living room, imagining I was in an iPod commercial. Aah, I felt sooooo much better. Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was the lyrics. Maybe it was the endorphins. Who knows? Who cares. All I know is that, for 25 minutes, thanks to Michael Jackson, that song from "A Goofy Movie", and whatever else came up, I was happy. Yeah, my problems didn't solve themselves, and I'm still stuck with finding a job and studying for finals, but it's okay. It isn't the end of the world. For just a little bit, my biggest problems were staying hydrated and not falling over.