Ball of Shame

Do you ever have those moments where you relive all of your most humiliating moments in a span of seconds? Yeah, me neither.

However, if I did ever have those moments, I could only guess what those moments would feel like. And based on my extraordinary imagination, I know those moments are quite the phenomenon of shame that I like to call the “Ball of Shame.”

In my studies, I have found that the Ball of Shame is most likely to occur due to humiliation, but it is not limited to only that and may occur in two other circumstances.  

1.    Ball of Shame: Humiliation Edition

This is the phenomenon most previously noted. These only last a span of seconds, but you somehow are able to relive every embarrassing moment you have ever had since shame entered your life. The most embarrassing of those moments from your life seem to be played in HD in your mind. I don’t know how it’s possible for this to happen in a span of seconds, but it does, and it’s rough. Those seconds last for an eternity. Unfortunately, this most often occurs spontaneously, and the trigger is often irrelevant.

For example, you are walking to class one day and you see a mailbox. The mailbox reminds you that you need to send back your Netflix DVD. The Netflix DVD reminds you of how you spent your Saturday. You watched the movie that night, but most of your Saturday was spent at the homecoming football game. At that homecoming football game you got hungry and went to buy some fries. You got in line at the concession stand and realized you were standing behind the guy you sit next to in your Economics class. The guy turned around and said hey. Excited, you returned his greeting. He gave you a confused look and then gave you a slight but awkward head nod, and then proceeded to have a conversation with the guy standing behind you. All of this occurs to you as you are walking to class because of that stupid mailbox. You think of that one humiliating moment that happened the last Saturday and every other embarrassing moment you have ever had flashes before you in a matter of endless, excruciating seconds.

2.    Ball of Shame: Regret Edition

This happens when you are reminiscing about life and you think about something you most recently said or did that you regret. This most often occurs when you are alone and finding ways to waste time. Normally the trigger for this occurrence is much more obvious than the Humiliation Edition because you are clearly asking for it. For example, you are probably sitting alone in your dorm room and Facebook stalking yourself. This is self-destruction at it’s finest. You will find and remember things you regret, and then you find yourself in the Ball of Shame.

3.    Ball of Shame: Gob Bluth Edition

Do the words, “I’ve made a huge mistake,” ring any truth to you? This is very similar to the Regret Edition, but on a much more immediate and on a larger scale. This Ball of Shame occurs immediately after you've made a huge mistake and you realize you can’t do anything to fix it. It’s done and all you can do is the Ball of Shame.

The Ball of Shame looks a lot like this:

The Ball of Shame: A real and frightening phenomenon.

You’ve been warned.

Mountain Man's Guide to Manliness

So I know you guys are used to my writing, but in spirit of the holiday season, I decided to spice it up a bit. This is my first video post! Yay! I did this as a Christmas gift to my good friend Chris. Special thanks to Kelsey for helping me out!

I present to you "Mountain Man's Guide to Manliness."

Kathleen’s Not So Efficient but Exceptionally Effective Study Process

People>Studying. Always and forever. I think most people would agree with me on this opinion. However, my finals don’t understand that. And neither does Nathan Deal. So that means I must study. Eventually. At some point. It’s going to happen. Not now. Eventually. When I have no other choice.

I have a study process. I think it’s pretty effective. I mean, it has gotten me this far in my education; obviously it’s getting me somewhere in life.  It goes a little something like this:

Kathleen’s Not So Efficient but Exceptionally Effective Study Process:

1.     No Stress. Your finals don’t start until a week from now. That means people time. People. People. People. Finals? Why are you people even talking about finals? Who studies this far in advance? Get out of here, and go to the library. I don’t need you and your stress around me at this moment. You can go read while I have all the fun. Oh, hey, more people. I need to be around people!

2.     Finals are approaching. I am completely aware of their impending presence. Don’t think about it. Can I hang out with more people already?

3.     Okay. I really should be studying at this point, but I really don’t want to, so I'm going to complain. Wah! I don’t want to study. You know what I really don’t want to be doing right now? Studying. Wah! I really don’t want to study. Wah! Wah! Wah!

4.     More complaining about how I don’t want to study.

5.     Even more complaining.

6.     Okay, I should really start studying now. Let me open my laptop. Distractions.

7.     I read one page. I can take a study break. Oh, hey Facebook.

8.     Another few pages. Hmm… let me start thinking about my future: I am moving to Europe, when? Oh, right, I’m supposed to be reading.

9.     But I really don’t want to continue. I am going to take a lunch break.

10. Wait, I have two finals when? In two days? When did that happen? More complaining! Wahhhh! Wahhhhhhhh!

11. Okay, but really. Studying starts now.

12. Crank it out. Final Countdown style.

Ehh, perhaps not the best process, but a process nonetheless. Finals. They’re real. They’re ugly. They’re coming.

Backhanded Compliments

I don’t know when people decided backhanded compliments were an acceptable form of praise and encouragement. Worst idea ever. This coming from possibly one of the most (tastefully) offensive people I know, myself. If you’re going to compliment me, please go all out. It’s most flattering, and expect me to be especially thankful. If you want to critique me, please, by all means, go all out, and expect me to respond passive aggressively. It may burn, but I would rather it burn than feel the weird sensation of icy-hot that is backhanded compliments.

Examples, you ask? My pleasure.
(All of the following are dramatizations unless otherwise noted)

1. Me: So, remember that guy Ryan I told you about? Well, he asked me to go to dinner with him this weekend.

“Complimenter”: Really!? No way! I never thought a guy like him would ask a girl like you out on a date. He’s way hot. Props!

Time-out: I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to take this. A guy like him? Are you saying a hot guy can’t ask me out for dinner? What kind of girl does that make me? Not hot? And props? Really? Props? Who uses props (other than thespians) anymore? Icy-hot.

2. “Complimenter”: It’s too bad we can’t be roommates at Harvard. I was really looking forward to it. But you know, UGA’s not a bad school. I mean, it’s no Harvard, but it really is quite prestigious if you’re from Georgia.

Time-out: Are you really rubbing the fact that you got into Harvard and I didn’t into my face? I mean, that’s okay, you are making me feel better by telling me the school I did get into, even if it is no Harvard, is decent, if you’re from Georgia. But doesn’t the state of Georgia have one of the worst school systems in the nation? So I guess this does make me smart by Georgia standards indeed. Icy-hot.

3. “Complimenter”: You’re not as big as you used to be!

Time-out: So you’re saying I’m still big? Icy-hot.

4. Me: Just got a personal best on my mile! 7:30, baby!

“Complimenter”: Hmm, 7:30? Not bad! I must say, today was not my best day at all. 5:55 is not gonna cut it.

Time-out: Okay, it started out decent, but did you really have to go on? If 5:55 is not going to cut it, then what is my 7:30 to you? Thanks for making my personal best look embarrassing. Icy-hot.

5. “Complimenter”: You’re pretty now, so I can introduce you to my friends!
Time-out: (This one is a true story, no exaggeration. However, I’m not going to throw the person under the bus who said this to me. You know who you are.) So you’re definitely saying I wasn’t pretty before. I’m glad you think I’m pretty now though. But was I really so hideously troll-like before that you couldn’t introduce me to your friends? I am glad I have made such a miraculous transformation. Icy-hot.

So there you have it folks, backhanded compliments galore. Aren’t they fun? (Sarcasm bell) Give me the compliment or give me the critique, darn it! I don’t want this ambiguous backhanded compliment. Have the balls to say what you really mean! I can take it. I promise.

Dear Mr. Darcy,

Elizabeth Bennet’s long overdue letter to Mr. Darcy

Dear Mr. Darcy,
This letter is not easy for me to write. I have been putting it off for quite awhile now, but I need to write it. I need to write it for you, and I need to write it for me.

First and foremost, I shall swallow my pride, and apologize. Please forgive me for misreading you. I was caught up with myself. I was caught up in my pride. I was caught up in my vanity. I was caught up with Mr. Wickham. All I wanted to be was desired. Mr. Wickham did desire me. Or at least I thought he did. That was all a sham. His vanity desired my attentions. Like my vanity desired his attentions, so really we are one in the same, Mr. Wickham and I. And you loved me through it all and despite it all. You loved me despite my vanity and my pride; while I blamed you for pride that I really knew nothing about. Please forgive me.

Next, I want to thank you. Thank you so much for loving me despite it all. Thank you for pursuing me. I realize now that the desire wasn’t enough. Desire without pursuit is nothing. You pursued me after I so harshly rejected you (or as Kathleen likes to say, after I was a total B.) You pursued me in a way that could be special only to me and me alone. You didn’t merely desire me. You loved me: quirks, attitude, spirit, lack of piano skills (or not any), and all. I cannot thank you enough for that.

You are a man. A man after my own heart.

And by a man after my own heart I mean you are not passive. I have had more than enough passivity in my life. I am no longer amused by it. How was I ever amused? Passivity is not attractive by any means. I would go on, but I will save you from the hot mess that seeps from my bitterness. Nobody wants to read that.

You are intentional. Pursuit: How can there be anything else? And you keep pursuing me to this day.
By man after my own heart, I mean you are not cryptic. You say what you mean. I need that.
By man after my own heart, I mean you are flawed, but you are willing to work at it.

By man after my own heart, I mean you put up with my strong spirit, (some might call it difficult) and you love it.

Mr. Darcy, I could go on, but let me save the public domain from the sappiness.

My sincerest apologies and firmest gratitude,
Elizabeth Bennet
(and special commentary and input by Kathleen)

My Heart

My Vision Board.

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Matthew 6:21 (NIV)

I'm such a magazine major.

SEC Football: It's Kind of a Big Deal

I still vividly remember the day I figured out that Georgia Football was more than just a game in my household. It was Saturday, November 2, 2002. I was a mere fifth grader. Before this day, football was just a sport to me. A sport my dad really liked. A sport my dad coached. I knew that in our household we cheered for the Georgia Bulldogs.  I knew that before I learned how to talk, I was taught to bark. Yes, Georgia football was prevalent in my life in those mere 11 years I had been living, but at that point, I didn’t understand that football was not “just” a game.

November 2, 2002 was a day to end all days. It was the Georgia/Florida game in good ole Jacksonville, Florida. The Dawgs were on fire this season. We were undefeated at this point. And then, like most of our games against Florida in these past 20 years, we choked. We lost. 13-20.

This didn’t mean much to naïve little 11-year-old Kathleen.  Sad day. We lost, but it happens. No big deal, right? Wrong.

After the game, I remember I needed to talk to my dad about something. What that was, I don’t remember, but that hardly matters in relation to the scene that followed.

I remember walking to my dad’s room. We basically have a no knock policy in my house. We have no regard for each other’s privacy. It’s common for us to just walk into each other’s room without knocking. So I went to my dad’s room and turned the handle on the door like I always did. It was locked. That was extremely strange for me. We never locked doors in our house. So I was forced to knock on the door, an action so foreign to me. My dad was not answering. I didn’t really get the hint that my dad didn’t want to talk to anyone because obviously what I needed to talk to my dad about was more important than anything else he could have been doing. Finally my dad came and opened the door. My mouth was open, ready to talk to my dad about whatever I needed to talk to him about, but quickly shut after I realized that his eyes were wet. My dad was crying. My big, strong dad was crying!
“What’s wrong?” I asked, genuinely concerned.

“I thought this was our year,” my dad responded, choking back tears and then went back into his room and shut the door.

That was the day that it clicked for me. Georgia football was not “just” a game in my house; it was a way of life.

I was enlightened that day, and my dad’s passion for the dawgs officially transferred to me. And since then I have been with the dawgs, win or lose. I was with them when they went undefeated, save Florida, for the rest of the 2002 season and went on to beat Arkansas in the SEC Championship game. I got a sweatshirt to sport that glory, and I still rep it proudly today because that year was my perspective changer. I was most definitely there when they went on to defeat FSU in the Sugar Bowl that season. (sadly not the National Championship game) I was there for them when they won the 2005 SEC Championship game. I was there for them when they went on to the Sugar Bowl that season, only to be defeated by West Virginia. I was there for them during the tragically beautiful 2007 season, also known as the BCS blues, where Tennessee went to the SEC Championship game instead of them because Georgia and Tennessee were tied in the SEC East, but since Georgia lost to Tennessee, Tennessee got to go, even though their season was going no where but down, and Georgia’s season was going no where but up. I was there to watch Tennessee lose to LSU, in a game that I know Georgia so could have won, and then painfully cheered LSU on in the National Championship game, thinking, “that could have been us” with all the other Georgia fans.  Sigh, the BCS blues. I was there to watch the dawgs DESTROY Hawaii in the Sugar Bowl that season. My freshman year at UGA, I was literally there to watch the dawgs have their first losing season since 1996. Now I am here to support my dawgs as SEC East Champions. You best believe I will be cheering them on in the SEC Championship game. (as underdawgs and all). 

Born and raised a Dawg fan, officially converted into a Dawg fan in 2002, I will be there to support them through thick and thin. National Title, we will meet again.