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New blog entry forthcoming by the end of the week!

Seasonal Changes

There are a lot of things I dislike about summer -- particularly Houston summers, which last 9 months out of the year and aren't transitioned into through that fabled season called "spring." Unfortunately, that's where I tend to live through most of my three months away from school. It's sticky and humid and hot. I break out from the humidity, and any makeup I try to put on to cover said breakout inevitably melts away in the heat. My hair becomes an instant frizzy mess before I even walk out the door. It's hot. I try to dress in appropriately skin-baring outfits to gain some relief from sweating, but the sheer whiteness of my skin blinds onlookers if I step into a beam of sunlight. That same skin refuses to tan (not that I'd want it to, really -- I'm sure I'd look horrid), and I constantly have to put on sunscreen to avoid burning. It's hot. My head is always overheated because my dark hair attracts that heat. I feel sluggish and murky and disgusting. It's hot. We get earth-shaking thunderstorms and the power (and thus, the air conditioning) always goes out at least twice a month and I can't stand it because it's so damn hot in Houston.

Today, the weather has been blissfully mild. However, as I glanced at the predicted low temperatures for Ohio this week -- mostly high 20's to mid 30's -- I found myself nearly tearing my hair out in lack-of-warm-weather frustration. I never thought I'd say this, but I could deal with a little bit of that Houston humidity if the thermometer would just inch its way into the 50's and 60's already. I love seasons, I love wintery weather, and I know I should be grateful that the temperature hasn't dropped to the painful-just-to-step-outside -20 of January... but after almost five months of walking around outside to get to classes with fifteen layers of clothing on my body and frigid wind slapping me in the face, spending my spring break with a coat on, I've had it. I'm ready to leave you behind, Winter -- I want beaches and bathing suits and sunglasses, sandals and shorty-shorts, picnics and quiet breezes. Please!!

If I don't get at least one day of relief this week I really might tear my hair out, and who wants to see a skinny pale girl walking around campus with a bald patch and salty tears of weather-induced agony streaming down her cheeks like she'd just accidentally had her emergency can of pepper spray backfire in her face? Nobody, that's who.

Beth's Tasty Treats

Those who know me well (oh, allright, and even those who've just met me in passing, probably) know that my life would be a great deal more hollow if I couldn't get my fill of delicious, "tasty treats." (That phrase itself has become something of a joke at school -- I can't even remember when that started, just that I think I said it one day and it stuck as the most appropriate way to describe my utter joy upon receiving such a snack). Sugary baked goods and confectioneries, buttery and salty snacks, sticky, peanut-butter filled candies or delicious, delicious hot drinks -- I am a treat queen. That's not to say that I know much about how to cook said treats; I only know how to eat them and enjoy. Thankfully my appetite has always been small, so it's hard for me to overindulge, but I always have room for dessert at some point during the day.

Someday, I mused to my friend Dane -- who, clever Theatre-guy that he is, gave me the idea for "Beth's Tasty Treat" after I whined to him about having nothing to post -- this obsession could conceivably become a bit sad. "Dane," I wrote, the cheerful 'blip' of my Trillian messenger offering no comfort to my rapidly panicking mind as my fingers feverishly typed, "I went to the mall today to get a new dress for my recital, and it was pretty much impossible for me to resist the hot pretzel stand." Truthfully, I hardly ever visit the mall without stopping to purchase a soft buttered-n'-salty delight; I actually plan to spend that absurd $1.5o before I even get in the car. Each time, that pretzel tastes like the best damn thing I've ever eaten. "What has become of me?"

Dane's response was a swift "HAHAHA," followed by, "Oh no, Beth!" I ignored the laughter; my heart was already wounded enough as I imagined my terrible fate, no doubt to someday be headlined in newspapers across the country to warn against habits like mine. "Quit while you still can," Dane urged.

"The withdrawal might be terrible," I countered, paranoia rising in my chest. How could I imagine a world without soft pretzels, cheesecake-on-a-stick, or peppermint mochas? "I'll sit around in corners, shaking, with sugar patches taped to my arms, staring at pictures of various pies and sobbing. People will walk by, 'tsk,' and sadly shake their heads. They'll pull their small children past protectively, whispering amongst themselves and wondering how anyone could ever sink so low." A lead weight had settled in my gut. I had no choice but to resign myself to what was to come. "That shall be my fate."

A moment of depressed reflection passed.

"I think you just wrote a post," sent Dane. "Withdrawal of treats."

The world lit up again. A topic to write about on a brand new blog! Perhaps, if I wrote about my quirk, my future wouldn't be so bleak!

And so, my friends, a theme post was born.

Starting fresh

Yep, I'm starting over! ...From what little I had to begin with, anyway. Well, uh, in any case, if I decide to write anything more here it will be a NEW BEGINNING. Doesn't that sound fantastic?