Muppets and Cartoons

In case you didn't know, the world is divided into Muppets and Cartoons. Everybody is either one of the other, and neither is better than the other. There are a few criteria that I use to characterize one as either a muppet or a cartoon:

Muppets:
-May have curly hair, but not always.
-Generally have muppet-like default expressions on their faces, and rounder faces
-Can be pictured to be made of felt

Cartoons
-Usually have sharper features
-More often than not, have straight hair
-Can be pictured in a comic strip, or animated series.

Let's categorize some famous people:

Drew Barrymore-- muppet
President Obama & his wife--muppets

Adam Sandler--(surprisingly) cartoon

Bruce Willis--muppet
Meg Ryan--muppet who is trying to look like a cartoon, but I know the truth!
Princess Diana--R.I.P., muppet
Miley Cyrus--cartoon

More categorization stories to follow...

Pathetic

I'd write a story about my life if it weren't so horribly pathetic. At the age of 24, I've already adapted my life to that of a widow---without the cats. Today, I took a 2-hour nap, swept my kitchen floor, indulged in a few dark chocolate wafers, and then went outside to water my garden. But for the Kings of Leon song "I'm Soft" blaring from my laptop on repeat, my home and routine just might belong to my grandmother...except my grandmother is way cooler, with season tickets to the LSU games for 50+ years, constant travel for various reasons, and a time share in Disney. No, my grandmother is Rockin'. I wonder, as a widow of roughly 22 years, if she still gets the ache in her chest that my grandfather used to fill...
I must say, however, spending time thinking about plants is relaxing. My roses are growing, but I'm afraid are rather unkempt. I'm just glad they're surviving the heat, but I fantasize about having the perfect rose bushes, covered in perfect buds in cycle with perfect flowers. One day when I have the energy or will power to do more than water, I will buy a pair of gloves and a straw hat. GEES, more widowhood apparel.
Yes, my life is so pathetic at this point, I am manifesting what I want in life in my dreams. It is so real, I believe them when I wake up. I dream text messages I want to receive, conversations I want to have, pictures I want to see, people I wish were here..altogether, my dream universe is the one that I want to live in. Wow, now I'm a psychotic widow. the unfortunate part about this entire phenomenon is that instead of empowering me, the dreams only serve to make me even more depressed when I wake up. All of my choices have led me to this point...in pointland...in the one dimensional POINTLAND and I can't move because...a point doesn't even have being. It's just an intersection of two lines.
So the thing to do, in order to stop this ever emcompassing state of ineptitude, I have to change something...I have to move blindly down one line or another, or perhaps more frightening, jump off into--I hope--a third dimension.

Thoughts on Kant

Kant whittled down truth to the question the existence of his own mind. His mind could not be doubted, he decided, because it was his very mind doing the doubting. I wonder what Kant would think of questioning the truth of one's own thoughts. Our emotions sometimes lie to us...We can make a huge deal out of something that is insignificant because we THINK it is. By and by we may find that it really isn't important. Therefore, our own thoughts and emotions have decieved us. If our own thoughts could be lies of perception, than what is the point of the existence of your mind? If the thoughts of your mind are not the truth, if we lose the ability to perceive what actually is, does it even matter that the mind exists? Isn't the purpose of the mind to KNOW the TRUTH?

Why do we do things to hurt ourselves?

Why do we do things to hurt ourselves? I think we all have a little masochist in us somewhere. For instance, why do we look at pictures of people we miss? Because we want to see them, because we love them, etc, etc, etc...all wonderful things; but in the end, sometimes it just makes us feel WORSE. "Why are they so HAPPY in the pictures when I'm so sad?" It's not fair!! Not only that, but there is this ache at the core of our being that we're all addicted to. It hurts, but we want it to hurt because it reminds us that we do feel something. It reminds us that we love...or loved at one time. I would venture to say that more often than not, most people, despite themselves, would opt to feel pain (on some level) over not feeling anything at all. We can laugh and cry, two things other species on the planet don't do. No girl is going to give up the ability to CRY! This girl surely isn't.

I was wondering about snail reproduction

Ok, I am very confused about the nature of the reproduction of snails: Upon the first search, I found out that most terrestrial snails possess both male and female reproductive organs, which would make them hermaphrodites...but apparently they still mate--this according to About.com.

Meanwhile, I happened upon a lab report completed by students at FSU--much more in depth, I think--which made no mention of snails at all. I did find out that Aphids have a life cycle which actually alternates between sexual and aesexual reproduction by way of Parthenogenesis, a modification of sexual reproduction, in which eggs develop without fertilization. Hm....

But back to the snails: In support of what I read on About.com, I found an explanation of what it means to be a hermaphrodite mollusk on Wikipedia: Because they have both male and female reproductive organs, all land snails lay eggs, which then hatch and become little snails. HOWEVER, they still mate after performing a courtship that can last anywhere from 2 to 12 hours (!!) in order to internally fertilize the eggs. Soo....this is not really aesexual reproduction?
I'm still confused.

Be extra cautious if you're driving behind a hearse...

I almost rear-ended a hearse yesterday--which happened to be carrying a casket-- while trying to position my phone perfectly so that my car charger would actually charge my phone. In retrospect I wonder, did I inadvertently enter a funeral procession? AH!!! And I live across the street from and graveyard. great.

Frettings at 6:13am

Is "frettings" a word? Ok, no it's not, but no matter; I simply wish to imply a certain return to infancy which occurs during these early morning hours: I need food. I need sleep. I need...coffee. Yes, from infancy in my house we were conditioned with a lovely beverage called coffee milk. Coffee milk, when made properly, is simmered on a stove top: 10% coffee, 90%milk, and about 3 tablespoons of sugar. Delectable. However, somewhere along the lines, we stop needing the milk and the percentages flip flop. This change has led me to months --years--of shaky-hands, twitching eyes, spastic arm gestures, and mood swings that rival the manic depressive, and an ever-deepening need for the very cause of the ruckus: coffee.