Ghosts Of Christmases Past

Lots has been going on in the past couple of days.

After being confronted with the reality of my horrible memory, I looked up ‘Memory Exercises’ on Google. As I should have expected, most of the results that turned up were titled “Memory Exercises for Seniors,’ or ‘To Boost the Aging Mind.’ I didn’t realize I was in that audience quite yet, but oh well.

The mission to self-improve ended there, as the first link I pressed told me to learn a new language or instrument. I would, but I’m not going to—sorry, neurologists. One of the other listed options was doing math problems in your head while walking or playing word games internally, thinking of things ending or beginning with the same first or last two letters.

As you can see, none of this sounds ‘fun.’ Oh well, I guess it’s a problem when it’s a problem.

Other than in my own life, much has transpired in the dorms.

I call this, Ghosts of Christmases Past.

Additionally, we have the birds of a feather. The LED epidemic is spreading throughout upper rez. Thankfully, my building is within the six feet recommended distance, so for now, it is safe. The spores cannot make contact, despite their most substantial efforts.

Besides that, the light on the 5th? 6th? floor has been flickering for the past couple of days, which could have been hazardous if I had lived here when I was five. Epilepsy is no joke. My floor’s bathroom also has a malfunctioning light, and as a result, it makes the sound of ping-pong a couple of rooms away. Every time I’m peeing, I’m convinced there’s a game going on and am promptly reminded of the crushing reality. Unfortunately, no ping-pong table thus far.

As the building breaks down, my body breaks down with it. My skin is still the helpless victim to the Montreal air, drying out with a vigor I have never seen before.

To this, Celeste suggested I start wearing silk gloves around at all times. Much like my initial ideas of stopping deodorant use or abandoning my shoes for the barefoot life, I think this could be a multilayered scheme. Other than protecting my hands from drying out, it will attract like-minded individuals, drawing them out of their silken shells.

I suppose I would have to take these gloves off once in a while, like when brushing my teeth or washing my face, but I think they will still do their job.

Speaking of brushing my teeth, I often spend those enduring 2 minutes reading the warning labels, ingredients list, and directions of my various products when getting ready for bed.

Yesterday, ACT mouthwash was subjected to my critical eye. Upon deeper investigation, I noticed that it said that if you were to swallow more than the usual serving size (that’s definitely not the right word, but what is?), you should immediately call poison control. Unsurprisingly, this piqued my curiosity. I wondered, how much mouthwash could you really drink before needing help? I looked it up; supposedly, it's one to two liters. One to two liters seems quite purposeful, as you would need to drain probably a couple of bottles for anything to take effect. I then wondered, what does mouthwash overdose look like?

Google, as usual, my trusty source, told me that it caused stomach pains. No shit, I guess. (Ha).

More surprisingly, though, I learned that in some instances, it could cause a coma or even death. This may shock you, but if I were presented with a choice, I would rather not die from drinking too much mouthwash.

Just imagine – usually, the first question that pops into people’s heads is how. To be confronted with ‘mouthwash,’ I’m not sure how people would react. “Live fast, die young.”

At least the people would know my teeth were clean.

-Violet

P.S. Online background erasers are a magical thing.

The Flying Philosopher

Hi blog! I’m Sidney, the newest guest contributor to Heads Up Phones Down. I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to introduce myself, but last week I was doodling in my philosophy class when I heard two words: John Locke. Like any normal person, this name triggered a fear deep inside of me, teleporting me back to the many Brooklyn Tech classrooms in which I was present for the mention of such a name. Now I do not recall what exactly John Locke philosophized that made him so important that every highschool history teacher needed to dedicate class time to choking on his dead, decaying dick, but what my philosophy professor proceeded to tell the class left me pondering everything I thought I knew about this man.

Basically, John Locke believed that what makes a person the same person over time is their consciousness. Not their body, or their actions, but their memory. This means that basically John Locke believed that if you blacked out and killed somebody, you shouldn’t be convicted of murder since you don’t remember it happening so it was a person other than yourself committing murder. Kinda dope. Like thats radical for the 1600s, and its still relevant today!! Dear every history teacher I’ve ever had, what do you think? Anyway pretty sure he also said some shit about how governments should be structured that the US ripped off. I guess that his beliefs about consciousness didn’t make the cut. Probably for the best.

On another note, I’m not sure I’ve even told Violet this, but I have continued my mysterious and non-existent dance career at NYU. That is correct, I am a NYU dancer. Anyway yesterday at rehearsal my choreographer informed me that I, Sidney, am a flyer. Now I am sure that this blog does not attract many cheerleaders, so I would like to clarify that a flyer is the person who gets lifted/thrown in a dance/cheer piece.

This information was shocking to my 5’7” ears. I have never been a flyer in my life, never thought I qualified for the position. Not only does my newfound status as a flyer make me question many of my own self perceptions, but I now have to consent to standing on top of two girls (both shorter than me), and then trust fall backwards off of them into the arms of two other girls (these ones are taller than me). Also I’m holding a sharp, plastic crown the whole time so I feel like I might only have one eye soon. Why? I do not know. Kinda fun. Kinda terrifying.

Also, I had those prepacked cinnamon rolls for breakfast today. Subtle kitchen flex to all you kitchenless dorm livers out there. I have included a photo so stay envious.

Thank you for the opportunity to contribute to Heads Up Phones Down, I am truly honored. Dear reader, I hope that you enjoyed my menagerie of bullshit. These were just some things I really needed to get off my chest, and I am grateful for having this safe space to do so.

Peace and love,

Sidney

Questions I Can't Find the Answers to on the Internet, and Other Things

As such is one of the downfalls of being an absolute groundbreaker, I often wonder things that no one else seems to have wondered before. (Or, I only looked at the first link, and it didn't answer my questions).

"Can brown sugar dissolve in cold milk overnight?"

This is my first time making overnight oats, so really, I have no idea what to expect. I also don’t know the good milk-to-oats ratio, but troubleshooting is in my DNA.

I either massively fucked up, or am a complete genius, especially for a first-timer.

While preparing these oats, I found that it seemed like they would lack much flavoring. I know that oats are nothing like salad, but for salads, I, like everyone, find that the more toppings included, the better. Keeping in mind that I had no idea whether or not I actually liked oats, I furiously searched my one shelf for answers.

What did I find?

Nothing. But, as they say, genius comes from rock bottom. (Do they say that?)

Either way, I got the idea to put a tea bag in it while it sat in the fridge, hoping it would be infused by morning. I only own mint and Earl Grey, and I figured the mint would clash with the cinnamon I had added (and the earl grey wouldn’t??), so I went with Earl Grey.

Waking up, I started to make coffee and took my oats out of the fridge, my hands shaking in fear of disappointment. Little did I know, it would be a smashing success. I added chopped-up apples and frozen blueberries, and it was terrific.

I had more, but I figured it would be better to save it for tomorrow morning, so later I met up with Lola to get shawarma.

I hope you're sitting down for this, but at the dining hall, I came up with an absolutely fire invention idea.

Waiting for Lola’s shawarma to be made, I began to take in my surroundings. They say it’s good to be in the present, but I have found that I usually do not pay much attention to what's around me.

Today though, I really did look. I glanced around, and the milk machine called my name. I appreciated the cow photo and the overall design; it felt right.

This got me thinking about milk dispensers, something that usually does not cross my mind.

I stood there for a minute, and then, the genius struck. I thought to myself; there should be a milk dispenser where to get milk, you squeeze silicone udders instead of the usual push-down method.

Before you say anything - yes, I’m sure this is already an invention. I feel like most things have already been invented. Still, even if someone else has already come up with this genius idea, I think it should become more common.

Also, I do feel a little stupid because I’ve been wondering how the people who get coffee add milk, only seeing a soy milk bottle by the machine. This grazing cow has been staring me in the face the whole time.

Hindsight is 20/20. At least now, some of my questions have been answered.

Other than a lack of observational skills, some of my faults have been coming into view recently.

1. Words I can’t spell: attached (attatched), sophomore (sophmore)

2. I can never decide if I should use amount or number, or effect or affect. I know the rules, but they just don't seem to seep in. Sorry, Ms. Fournier.

3. What words should be capitalized in a title? I know, but do I? Clearly, I've made mistakes before. It just doesn't always feel right.

4. If poem titles, book titles, articles, etc. should be italicized, capitalized, etc. This one just doesn't come up enough for me to really care.

These all have clear answers, one Google search away, but every time I try and learn, I lose any and all motivation to try and change.

It's cause I'm a lefty, isn't it?

Jokes aside, writing that statement made me curious. I have distinct memories of going down a loophole with Celeste, akin to my left-handedness, making a list of all the traits we had as a result.

I remembered a few, but I wanted the ego boost from websites like educationandcareernews.com, telling me I am more creative and better at multitasking than my right-handed counterparts.

The second of these benefits, as featured on this website, was that I was in good company. Thank god!

They wrote, "Benjamin Franklin and Henry Ford are listed as left-handed, along with four of the last five U.S. presidents. England’s Prince William is also a lefty. Michaelangelo, Raphael, Leonardo da Vinci, and Renoir made the list, as well." While these might not be my initial go-to's for considering myself in 'good company,' I felt flattered, I guess, that this website told me so.

"Who else is a famous lefty?" I wondered. Other than the presidents, like, who asked? I searched and searched for celebrities I could be proud of, and then I happened upon an article that said Aristotle wrote with his left hand.

Initially, I ignored it, thinking, "It's Aristotle. Who cares?" But then, I wondered, how do they know if Aristotle was a lefty or not? He lived in 300 B.C.

(I was going to write: I assume he didn't write about it because who cares what hand you write with? And then I realized that's exactly what I've been doing. Awkward).

The fifth benefit, according to this same article, was that there is a left-handed club. God. We seem to have nothing better to do, huh? Embarrassing.

It's kind of like this red car meet-up I witnessed yesterday:

A bit extra, but to each their own.

Gonna go try and write with my right hand now.

Violet