033005
I stared at the little box, mentally willing it to connect. As if mocking me, it sat on step two, supposedly verifying my name and password. Time after time, another box would appear: The AIM service can�t be reached. I angrily clicked OK, then quickly hit Sign On in a vain attempt to connect to the outside world.
On try number six, I decided to switch screen names. Maybe I could trick AIM, I thought, and mix things up a bit. When jschool molls and mollykentala both yielded nothing, I logged onto aim.com. At this point, I was getting desperate. There were people I needed to talk to, conversations I needed to have before bed, something to distract me from my homework. Life just wasn�t the same if I wasn�t on AIM.
I hurriedly typed my information into the empty fields on AIM Express, hoping this would do the trick. The current screen disappeared and a larger box entered my field of vision. I could see things happening, but something wasn�t quite right. My computer speakers were on but low, and a persistent clicking noise came from them. Eventually, my worst fear was recognized: That was down, too.
I sat in my leather computer chair feeling helpless. It hit me exactly how dependent I was on this technology. Even if I�m not talking to anyone, AIM sits minimized on my computer, ready and waiting to engage me in a cyber conversation at any given moment. Just knowing it�s there gives me comfort. And right now, I was far, far away from comfortable.
Mere seconds before I was about to throw in the towel and crawl into bed, AIM slowly sprang to life. My eyes widened as my buddy list appeared in the upper-right-hand corner of my computer screen. A wave of relief washed over me. It wasn�t broken. AIM lives!
I managed to make it back online, but it looked as if my friends weren�t so lucky. I was horrified to see 11/99 buddies on my list. Immediately, an IM popped up from a friend. �Were you kicked offline too by chance?� she asked. I shared my problem and we declared an AIM pandemic. As we discussed how helpless we felt and the inevitable patheticness that set in, I saw my friends begin to appear one by one.
Could it be true that AIM had a server malfunction? Maybe some overweight tech guy was eating day-old Peeps and accidentally dropped one into the AIM mainframe. Maybe someone pushed �the button.� Whatever the case, for those grueling 20-some minutes, I learned just how much I depend on technology to get me through the day.
Don't ever leave me again, AIM.
032105
I couldn�t concentrate on my romance novel any longer. The clouds finally cleared and I peered out the tiny window at the blanket of white. A smattering of houses and farms dotted the landscape. It was hard to tell if we were in Wisconsin or Minnesota, but my face remained plastered to the window regardless. It wasn�t my first flight, but something about the winter scene below me was enthralling and I couldn�t look away.
We switched course and began to head north, and brown slowly replaced white. The structures multiplied and towns came into sight. If I squinted hard enough, I could make out tiny cars and trucks hurtling down freeways. The groundlings went about their business with no notice of me soaring overhead. I wondered if I�d ever met any of them; the owner of this farm, the driver of that red pickup truck. As far as they were concerned, I was a mere speck flying through the clouds.
I turned to my book and placed the checkout slip between the open pages. The girl to my right leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the outside world through the window between mine and the first class cabin. I slid back in my seat and rested my head against the wall, relishing in my prime location. Turning once again to the window, I noticed the open prairie had become a bustling cityscape. Suburbs dotted the ground below. As far as the eye could see were neighborhoods, shopping centers and businesses.
Before long, downtown Minneapolis appeared in my field of vision. I sighed happily, knowing home was only a few minutes away. As I tried to orient myself, I searched for any buildings on the U�s campus. There was Mariucci and Williams and�Van Cleve. Working quickly, I followed the streets until I caught a fleeting image of my roof before it vanished under the wing. I beamed in 5A, proud of my geographical accomplishment.
Our aircraft circled downtown before heading towards the tarmac. The houses increased exponentially in size and shortly after, I felt the jolt of wheels hitting land. The roar of the brakes cancelled out all sound, with the plane giving a final shudder prior to its rolling stop. �On behalf of Northwest Airlines, we�d like to welcome you to the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul,� the flight attendant announced throughout the cabin. I breathed as deeply as I could through my stuffed up nose.
I was home.
031705
It's a mystery
Like the deep blue sea
You can take it
You can leave it
But I still believe
So I won't give up
And I won't give in
I know I'm gonna find him
I just don't know when
A girl trying to find herself the perfect man is
Like trying to find Atlantis
- Jamie O'Neal
031405
Life has found me without a great love since October � or quite possibly May, depending on your take of the tumultuous freshman love triangle. Suffice to say, I�ve been a little lonely lately. I�ve watched friend after friend meet a new special someone and fall head over heels in love. That�s not to say I haven�t been trying. I�ve been introduced to many males during this time period, but there�s always something that doesn�t click.
There was the acquaintance I�ve perpetually had a crush on but was never single enough to do anything about until Karkov came into the equation. There was the out-of-town neuroscience major I met at a bar who liked me with my glasses on. There was the journalism guy I got too attached too quickly to and made me the talk of the j-school. There was the self-proclaimed �I�m not looking for a relationship right now� blind date from the �burbs who rejuvenated my love of chatting on the phone.
Looking back, they were all wonderful guys. Despite some of the awkward situations we got ourselves into, each one had a lot to offer a girl. Just not this girl.
March has started with someone new on the radar. And no, he�s not the flavor of the month, despite what certain past updates on certain websites might imply. I actually like this one. I can pinpoint my initial attraction to the first Thursday of the month when he sat down next to me and struck up a conversation about a front-page photograph. I had one of those �wow, I�ve never noticed him before� moments.
Who knows what will happen this time around. There seem to be many similarities and differences between us, which I�ve always viewed as a good thing. If you�re with someone who�s exactly the same as you are, you�ll never try anything new. If it weren�t for past relationships, I never would have gone to church camp, tried wakeboarding, seen a LAN party, or become a crazed hockey fan.
If nothing else, he�ll leave me with a few more stories that start, �This one time senior year��
030905
Welsch's World
By Anthony Welsch, Molly World reader representative
Many of you have probably wondered what happened to the reader rep. Well, here I am. It�s tough to represent readership when there is no product for them to read. On that note, let�s begin ripping on Kentala.
The month of February only saw two real entries from Miss Molly. In fact, she only posted four times the entire month. OK, so February�s a short month, and it wasn�t a leap year�but come on. February 10�s entry was particularly insightful: �All good things�� I don�t know if she was citing Blink 182, or if there was some deeper meaning. Either way, I�m sure writing the HTML code to update took her longer than the entry itself. Happy Valentine�s Day readers, hope you like crap!
February also saw a very distinct tone change come from Molly World. In fact, she�s moving away from her disturbing �blog style� and more into the online journal realm. Most readers welcome this style, since it�s more straightforward and heartfelt. After all, the majority of readers don�t have 10 minutes to read a narrative about picking out clothes for dinner. To steal a phrase from Kentala herself, �Is the juice worth the squeeze?� In this situation, the 10 minutes of reading most definitely is not worth the small bit of juice.
Gone are the days of sex, intrigue and mystery from Molly World. Enter the days of typical college life: students throwing up at McDonalds, cutesy relationship information and REO Speedwagon. Surely Kentala believes her readers deserve more than, �I can�t fight this feeling anymore.�
On that note, the past two months could have been amazing for Molly World. A non-intimate relationship that was destined for disaster from the start transformed our author into a sex-crazed piece of ass looking for anything to stuff inside her: �Anybody up for a booty call? I've got a queen-sized bed that needs to be broken in,� (March 3).
At first it may have appeared cute, desperate and satirical. Alas, that was not the case. As is evidenced by an entry the very next day, our heroine truly is sex crazed and using our beloved blog as a personals advertisement: �So to put it in plain English, my current vice has become wanting a friend with benefits. Who knows if it would actually work, but I�d like to give it a try. I want pure, unadulterated, no-strings-attached sex�and I want it now,� (March 4).
After all that, after stripping away all her femininity and delving into desires only the testosterone of a man could scream for, she retreats back into herself. Leaving you, the reader, unfulfilled and dissatisfied. But not nearly as dissatisfied as the author herself: �All I want is a halfway normal guy who is tall, makes me laugh, isn't afraid to dance in public, and provides me with the kind of love I give in return. Is that too much to ask?� (March 8).
Are we being hard on Molly? Perhaps. Are we fair? Absolutely.
030805
All I want is a halfway normal guy who is tall, makes me laugh, isn't afraid to dance in public, and provides me with the kind of love I give in return. Is that too much to ask?
030705
I knew it wouldn�t be easy, but I counted to three and hoisted the box up from the lecture hall chair. I uneasily tiptoed through the last row, my ankles wobbling back and forth. Today wasn�t the day to break in a new pair of heels, but I�d bit the fashion bullet in an attempt to look cute. I dodged an empty pop bottle and felt the box of Girl Scout cookies begin to slip, so I shifted it higher and lost balance. I grabbed for a seat back so I didn�t topple face-first into the next row down. When I picked myself up, I noticed a few classmates watching my spectacle. I quickly scurried out of the room to escape the risk of looking even more ridiculous.
I got to the exit and balanced the cookies on a railing while I adjusted my sunglasses and slipped on my mittens. Resuming the previous cookie-toting position, I headed along Church Street towards Murphy Hall. I began my usual walking pace once I hit the sidewalk, but immediately felt a snag in my plan. My right toes were moving forward with every step, causing my heel to come further and further out of my shoe. With the next step, my heel made a complete exit.
I came to a halt as my shoe scraped against the pavement. �Shit!� I half mumbled. Shielding my face from the biting wind, I wiggled my foot back into the shoe and continued. Three steps later, it happened again. This time, I managed a much louder, �fuck!� A girl on my left looked startled before hurrying away. I placed the cookies on the ground outside Rapson Hall and used my hands to shove my foot back into its home. I pushed from every direction, hoping my physical abuse would cause the footwear to behave. No such luck.
For the remainder of the two-block trek to Murphy, I limped, I dragged, I did anything to keep my shoe from coming off. But the little bugger did, over and over again. I was physically and mentally worn out by the time I clacked through the halls of the j-school and into the lab. �Tyler, is Scoop here?� I asked. �I don�t think so,� came his reply. �He�s not usually in on Mondays.�
Realizing my hard work had been in vain, I stomped my feet on the carpet and kicked my right shoe against the blue pillar. I secretly cursed my friend for his absence before regaining my composure. Thanking Tyler for his information on Scoop�s whereabouts, I headed back outside. At the top of the stairs loomed a maroon-topped garbage can. My eyes darted from the can to the cookies and back. I glanced down at my shoes and a thought came to mind.
I watched the green and red boxes disappear into the dark abyss with an evil grin plastered across my face.
030605
There were three lines to place an order inside the Dinkytown McDonalds and each was five people deep. A handful of employees scurried about behind the counter, placing bags of cheeseburgers and french fries into the hands of hungry college students. It was considerably more crowded than I imagined for a Saturday at 1 a.m., but I was told these were the early leavers of nearby frat and house parties.
It looked as if a Hollister bomb exploded between the plastic trays and U of M memorabilia. Girls with stick-straight, overly-highlighted hair sauntered from table to table, hugging friends with names like Kimberly and Tammy, exposing their portly midriffs from tight shirts adorned with inappropriate but clever phrases. The guys watched with eager eyes, most of whom had the build of red-shirted freshmen football players, nudging their friends when a particularly �hot chick� walked by.
The men�s bathroom door swung open and two stocking-capped guys began swaggering towards a table of friends. Adam sniffed the air. �Do you guys smell that?� he asked. As if on cue, a pungent odor hit my nostrils. I lightly chuckled and knew the answer: weed. Immediately, a taller man made a beeline for the bathroom. I�d joked about him being a plainclothes cop, but this action reinforced my gut instinct.
Once he passed, a girl helped her friend up. She guided him towards the fast food joint�s back entrance. I noticed something on his lower lip and I squinted to get a better look. Fearing the worst, I turned towards the table they vacated. Amidst the burger wrappers and drink cups was a light yellow liquid slowly dripping off the table. I spun away for fear of gagging at the sight of it. Sarah noticed my reaction and looked over my shoulder. �Oh gross,� she exclaimed, a look of sheer disgust encompassing her face. �We�re leaving�now!�
The four of us quickly grabbed our garbage and headed for the exit. As I turned sideways to push through those waiting in line, I noticed a pair of eyes look me up and down. I rolled my eyes and couldn�t resist opening my mouth as we passed. �Why don�t you hit on someone your own age?� I spouted his way.
030505
Making assumptions killed the cat.
030405
Do you ever do things you know are bad for you? Like spend too much money or take up smoking or drive without wearing a seatbelt? I tend to shy away from things that have red warning signs flashing above them � except when it comes to the opposite sex.
It�s been five months since I've had a boyfriend. And while I know I�m not ready to jump back into a relationship, I would like some male company. I�m not joking when I say this. Granted the previous entry may have been a bit forward, but I feel that way sometimes. I grab my cell phone and hold it in my hand; it takes everything in body to not dial certain numbers and ask if I can come over for a quickie. I�m sure we�ve all had this feeling. There are certain days and times when you just need it.
So to put it in plain English, my current vice has become wanting a friend with benefits. Who knows if it would actually work, but I�d like to give it a try. I want pure, unadulterated, no-strings-attached sex�and I want it now.
030305
Anybody up for a booty call? I've got a queen-sized bed that needs to be broken in.
030205
Tim has become a really good friend of mine. We talk every day. Usually, it�s once when he�s driving home from work, then again later that night. We almost always chat for an hour or more, with the conversations touching on some deep subjects. I�ve gotten to know so much about him in these past two months. And while we didn�t succeed as a couple, I am so glad I was introduced to him. I have an old friend to thank for that. You know who you are.
Up until last Saturday, Tim and I had successfully spoken on the phone every day since Dec. 23. As I lay in bed that night, I felt incomplete, like something was missing. I knew his cell phone didn�t work in northern Minnesota, but I had secretly wished he�d find another way to call. Not being able to share my day with him was weird. It�d become so commonplace, like eating dinner or brushing my teeth before bed. I was relieved when he called the next afternoon as his cell reception came back. We spoke three times that day.
Last night, we got to talking about relationships. I am a self-proclaimed relationship person, while he�s quite the opposite. I understand the concept of being young and having the world at your fingertips. It seems like the perfect time to be commitment free, especially if there�s a chance you�d need to move or take big risks while you establish your career. And while I completely understand the merits of staying away from relationships, I long for the stability that a significant other can offer. I want nothing more than to know I have someone to come home to every day.
Unfortunately for me, I don�t think that�s in the cards right now. Sure, I�ve met some great guys this year. I�ve made many memories that will keep me warm when I�m 75. But something always seems to go wrong and I�m beginning to think there�s a reason for that. Maybe its karma�s way to telling me to cool it for a while. Who knows?
What I do know is when my next great love comes along, I�ll be ready and waiting to give all of my heart yet again. Even though I know going into it that 99% of my future relationships will end, I�m willing to step up and take that leap. Because when it comes down to it, that�s all relationships are. You find someone, you grow an adoration for them, then you jump. I�ve done a lot of jumping in my few years on the dating scene. I think it�s time to give my legs a rest, even if I think I don�t want to.
I know I�ll find happiness someday. With the way things are going, I hope Tim�s around for me to share it with. And if I�m really lucky, just a phone call away.
030105
Note: I�m going Anthony on all your asses and writing a rambling post. I feel bad for depriving my loyal readers of good content, so I tried to do an entry and this is what came out. Deal with it.
I just flipped my calendar. It�s officially March�which, in my room, means a new extraordinary chicken to grace my wall for a month. It all started back in January when my brother and I went to the mall. I have this thing about buying calendars at full price, so when I saw the Calendar Club store at the Burnsville Center with �75% Off Everything� signs hanging in the windows, we had to go in. I perused the aisles for quite some time, half upset that the selection was poor, but realizing it was my own fault. To make a long story short, it was between black and white pictures of national parks or extraordinary chickens. The chickens won. It�s been a pleasant living environment ever since.
I can�t believe I�m graduating from college in two-and-a-half months. It really did fly by. What�s been weirding me out the most is the thought of having a 9-to-5 job. It doesn�t seem like that big of a deal, especially since I�ve worked full-time for the past five summers, but having only two weeks of vacation time is quite a shocker. No longer can I call in sick on a Friday because I�m hung over. No longer can I take a week off because I�m going on Spring Break. On all of those days, I�ll have to suck it up and come in, eight hours a day, five days a week, 50 weeks a year. That�s become a scary thought. Granted I plan on having a job that I love and one that doesn�t seem like work, but every once in a while, we all get a case of the Mondays. And in that instance, it�d be nice to hit snooze and roll over without worrying about the consequences.
On a happier note, today was a good day. I can�t put my finger on why, but when I got home, I put on upbeat songs, cranked the volume on my computer speakers and danced around my house. That�s what I call a dance party, for those of you unfamiliar with my terminology. It was fantastic. The whole day was fantastic. I think a lot of it had to do with today being a Tuesday, meaning j-school class day. My first class is in the lab. I adore the lab. At any given moment, I tend to know about 75% of the people in there. I like to think of it as a frarority and I�m the president or something. Murphy Hall is one thing I�ll be sad to leave behind when I graduate.
A majority of last night was spent downloading Journey and REO Speedwagon songs. I�m not sure why. It just felt right. I�ve listened to �Can�t Fight This Feeling Anymore� about eight times today. Let me leave you with some heart-wrenching lyrics:
And I can�t fight this feeling anymore
I�ve forgotten what I started fighting for
It�s time to bring this ship into the shore
And throw away the oars, forever
�Cause I can�t fight this feeling anymore
I�ve forgotten what I started fighting for
And if I have to crawl upon the floor
Come crashing through your door
Baby, I can�t fight this feeling anymore