Chickens Function Better With Their Heads Attached

Today was one of those days.

You know what I'm talking about...the kind of day that results in you wanting to do nothing but curl up in the fetal position in a corner under some kind of shrubbery, using the leaves of said shrubbery to dry your never-ending snot-tears.

I work in pharmaceutical research, so my job is stressful with a capital everything.  We recently tripled our lab capacity, which subsequently tripled our workload.  It would make sense to hire more staff to properly accommodate this increase, right?

Me:  Hey, supervisor person, when are we getting some more people?  We're kinda busy and all...some more people would be uhh...good and stuff.

Supervisor Person:  Yeah, about that.  We were thinking we'd wait to hire additional people until you'd all had nervous breakdowns, were sobbing uncontrollably on the toilet, and were drooling on yourselves in the corner.  

Me:  Oh...ok.  Sounds good.  I'm going to go sob uncontrollably on the toilet now.

Supervisor Person:  Keep up the good work. 


Running around like a chicken with its head cut off sadly appeals to my crazy-escaped-from-a-mental-institution personality.  However, even I have to put my foot down once in awhile.  I am fortunate enough to be paid hourly, so at least I get paid for all the overtime I accrue.  


Sleeping is fun, though.  So is showering on a daily basis.  And eating dinner.

Our short-staffed-ness, combined with a heinously busy day, compounded by the busiest week/month ever, plus the fact that I have to go BACK to work at 9pm tonight all blended together to make me want to assume the aforementioned fetal position.  


I couldn't find any plant life in the office to curl up under, though.

I Am Awesome. And I have an award to prove it.

So I've been at this blogging thing for about a week now, and I have already achieved international fame some stuff.  Among said stuff is a super-awesome-fantastic thingy called the Liebster Blog Award!  

Melissa at Preposterous Pace was kind enough to bestow this honor upon my humble blog, for which I shall be forever grateful.  

According to the Liebster Blog rules, I am now supposed to give this award to five other deserving bloggers who have fewer than 200 followers.  However, since I kinda suck as a blog-stalker (relax, I'm working on it) I just don't know who give this phenoms award to.  

SO, in an effort to aid me in my blog-stalking habits, I'd love anyone reading this to recommend some blogs to follow.  Specifically anything that makes you pee/giggle/snort/die/laugh-so-hard-you-vomit/shift-uncomfortably-in-your-chair/etc.

Help a fellow blogger out, people.

No, I'm not crazy, I just have more interesting conversations with myself than I do with you.

I'm not sure I really need to write anything in this post since the title is so descriptive.  

.............................

I guess I'll elaborate, though.  

As I sit here, watching Resident Evil instead of The Oscars (much better TV, if you ask me), I find myself having mental conversations with myself.  

This is not a rare occurrence.

I frequently find that my best conversations happen in my head, or out loud but to myself.  You talk to yourself too, don't even try denying it.  I talk to inanimate objects too, and to my pets...I am convinced this is normal, but apparently not everyone shares the same feelings.  

Tell you a story:  I received a text a few days ago from my friend Jillian (wifey of my bffl, Mel, who will most likely berate me for days for using the term "bffl").  My phone, which is a major POS considering it was expensive and should work better than it does (no, I don't have an iPhone <----loser), did not recognize Jillian's number.  Due to this technological failing, I had to inquire as to the name of the text's sender - Jill told me it was her, and I promptly told my phone that it was a piece of crap and that I hated its existence.  

Via text...to Jillian.  But directing comments towards my phone.

Apparently this is not normal?   Jill seemed to not think so.

So I talk to in animate objects.  Don't judge me.  

Have you ever had a pretend conversation with a person in your head, and then see said person later on and can't quite remember if that discussion actually happened in real life or not?  

Or have an argument with someone, get all tongue-tied during the argument, and then later on come up with the Best-Zingers-of-all-Time as you replay the argument in your head, but it's now too late to use them because said argument happened a week ago?

OR make up some sort of pretend relationship in your mind with someone you're not really close with, but are convinced could be THE ONE if only these amazing experiences you're having in your head could only be brought to fruition in real life?

Ok, that last one sounds a little creepy stalkerish when written down, but whatever.

Do Re Me

So now that both Mel and I have mentioned that I "can sing,"  I dug up a couple YouTube videos for your perusal to prove that neither of us were lying (it's been known to happen...). 

The first video is from my senior year in high school in a Gilbert & Sullivan musical called Ruddigore. 

The second, as I'm sure you'll be able to tell, is from my 5x IRNE nominated production of RENT from this past summer (I'm the soloist...just in case that needs pointing out).

Enjoy!!

Hi. My name is Alycia and I am addicted to extracurricular activities.

I really think the title says it all, but seeing as how this is a blog and er'rythang, additional details are probably warranted.

You know that friend everyone has who's always running around like a crazy-escaped-from-a-mental-institution-person because s/he is so busy s/he barely has time to breathe/sleep/eat/pee?  You know, the one you want to just smack around a little bit so so s/he'll become slightly disoriented and stop moving long enough for you to have a decent conversation about more than just "OMG I'M SOOO BUSY I NEED CAFFEINE SO I CAN FINISH MY 200 HOUR WORKDAY BEFORE GOING TO METALWORKING CLASS FOR 15 HOURS STRAIGHT!!!"

You know who I'm talking about.

Me.  *hangs head in shame*

I should probably start by blaming my mother explaining that, as a small child, I was...encouraged to participate in a plethora of activities outside of school.  Here's a nice little list of examples:

1)  I started dancing at age 2.  I was in the Worcester Youth Ballet by age 10 and performed in The Nutcracker twice before I hit puberty.  Winner.

2)  I started playing the violin at age 3.  You could wear big-kid underwear and not shit in your diaper?  Yeah, well I was playing Mozart.  Fuck you.

3)  I started playing the piano at age 4.  Sensing a pattern yet?  Apparently I was a musical goddamned prodigy at the piano.  Almost went into the Conservatory instead of high school. (<----not my idea, btw)

4)  I started horseback riding at age 5.  I was in my first horse show at the tender age of 6.  I won both my classes.  Under ALL the judges.  I still have the trophies.  Pathetic?  Maybe a little.

5)  Joined the Worcester Youth Symphony Orchestra at age 10.  Second violin, first chair.  Age 10.  Almost went to school for violin too, but apparently I was better at piano.

6)  Mental breakdown at age 12.  couldn't....handle...all...the activities.  Quit everything except horseback riding since that was the ONLY thing I hadn't been "encouraged" to do.

Keep in mind that I did all of the aforementioned crap simultaneously.  As in I went to school (where we had to perform in concerts and yearly musicals from grades 3-6 also), then went to my other school and did all of that every day.  Except the horses part...that was at a barn, but moving right along...

Fast forward to senior year of high school.  My main activity outside of school has been horseback riding and I've been doing pretty damn well at it.  The highlight of my show career hit my junior year when I ranked 5th in my age category in the US and Canada.  Mel wasn't kidding when she said I rocked my extracurriculars.

Anyways, senior year hits and I've realized that I can sing.  Pretty well, too.  So I join chorus.  I audition for the select chorus and make it into that too.  I audition for Central District and make it in.  My score qualifies me for All State auditions, which I also make.  I also get cast as leads in both straight plays and the musical that year. 

Fuck.

Heyy there, extracurricular activies.  It's been awhile, how ya doin'?

Move on to college.  I join the Rowing team, which succeeds in eating up ALL of my free time.  All of it.  I remember one night when one of Mel's friends dropped by our house and asked if we were going out later in the evening.  We both gave her what must have been an extremely perplexed look before asking, "What exactly do you mean by 'out'?"

It was 8:30 on a Friday night.  Losers.

I graduate college, come back home to my (now retired) horse and get that fancy thing called a "real job." 

I'm so. Effing. Bored.

A year passes and I decide, Hey!  Let's go to Vet School!  One small problem, Alycia - you majored in Psychology.  That does exactly NOTHING to help you get into vet school.  Congratufuckinlations, you get to go back to school so you can go back to school. 

I start taking night classes 4 nights a week, which succeeds in eating up my "free" time.  I feel more normal, having less of this extra time on my hands. 

Soon though, it just isn't enough. 

I get the acting bug again.  A friend of mine from high school founded a theater company, so I start helping out with that on occaision.  I audition for a show and get cast.  I remember that I LOVE acting/singing/dancing/being musical and mentally start pummeling my existence into nothingness for quitting everything a decade ago.  I audition for MORE shows, which eats up MORE of my time.  I am content.

I get a new horse.  Now I have something to show again, so there goes some of that other time I had lying around. 

I decide, HEY!  Ballroom Dancing looks like FUN!  So I take a lesson at a studio near my house to see if I like it.  Surprise, surprise - I'm hooked. 

That brings us up to the present where on any given week I work 40+ hours in my pharmaceutical research job, take a night class at Harvard, have two Ballroom lessons, rehearse for my current show, ride my horse when weather permits and somewhere in there run errands and sleep and stuff.

Anyone in need of a hobby?  I have enough to keep a small city entertained for years.

I can explain...

I bet you’re wondering about the name of this blog.  More likely, I bet you’re wondering what ninja powers I used to come up with such an incredibly awesome badass title.  Well, while I’d love for everyone to believe I conjured it using some superhuman blog-naming power, I honestly can’t take the credit.  That goes to my good friend Melissa, and her Droid’s wonderful autocorrecting tendencies.  In order to fully understand how the naming of this blog came to be, I should probably give you all a little background information.

Mel and I are best friends from college, and for anyone who’s ever met her/heard stories about her/read her blog Preposterous Pace, you know she’s, well…awkward.  A few months ago, I mentioned she should start documenting her dysfunctions in a blog (complete with pictures, of course) because if she didn’t write this shit down, no one would ever believe it happened.  She did, the blog’s hilarious, and I found myself inspired. 

Just one problem: I needed a name for my blog. 

I helped Mel come up with hers, but I was drawing blanks when it came to naming one for myself.  We tossed ideas around for a couple days, neither of us coming up with anything particularly brilliant.  I had finally decided on “Shades of Gray” over options such as “These are My Thoughts. You can Agree or STFU,” “That Awkward Moment When You Realized I’m More Awesome Than You,” and “Sarcasm is an Art, Bitch.”  I still wasn’t 100% satisfied though.  While waiting around for inspiration to strike, I found out that a production of RENT I was in over the summer (yes, I sing and dance around on stages in my spare time) had been nominated for 5 IRNE Awards.  For those of you not involved in theater (musical or otherwise), the IRNEs are kind of like the Boston area theater scene’s version of the Tony Awards, only less prestigious and stuff.  Anywho, my production was nominated for 5 of these Awards including Best Musical, which is pretty freaking awesome if you ask me.  I texted Mel to share my excitement about my famousness and her Droid decided to change her congratulatory text of “You know by musical they mean singing…” to “You know by musical they moan so ginger...” 

THANK YOU, AUTOCORRECT!

And thus, the name “Moan So Ginger” was bestowed upon my blog.  What does it mean?  I have no idea, but it's badass and sounds fucking cool.  I sincerely hope everyone I know follows Mel's lead and tells me to "moan so ginger" instead of "break a leg" before all future theatrical productions. 

So as far as this blog is concerned, I honestly do not know what kind of things I will be posting about, but it will most likely be random comments about other people’s stupidity or my general lack of a “life” due to my addiction to extracurricular activities.  Both are fair game, so expect a nice blend of both.  Kinda like a smoothie, only with sarcasm and judgment instead of fruit and juice/booze.