A Very Lucky Girl

Tried to turn it into a Pinterest Project to increase my interest Hi my name is Taylor Arceneaux and I am the worst procrastinator in the entire world. I honestly think that studying is the most boring task I have ever encountered. I truly fell asleep cuddled up with my geology study guide masterpiece twice in the past hour.  work. of. art. Things that I would rather do: Clean the room. Not just my side (which can't really get any cleaner), but even the roommate's side. Which is a scary tornado disaster zone. Count the popcorn kernels that didn't pop despite their thorough stay in the janky microwave. Last time there were 148. What even is that!? Gain weight (that one is actually a lie, I've lost 18 pounds since Novemberish and I wouldn't put them back on again for anything). So instead I would spend 7 hours on the treadmill. Cut pills. I did that the other night instead of working on sociology (not a druggie, it's necessary to halve pills f

When did my generation start to emulate MTV? Is it a phase that every one's goes through? It seems like just a few days ago I was marveling at the horrific decisions I heard whispered about in the hallowed high school hallways. When did they become a part of everyday life?  Now, I have friends that think nothing of the drugs they are voluntarily attacking their body with. People are celebrating 4/20 so cavalierly. It's no longer a big deal to drink oneself into oblivion every weekend. Is it even going to be fun to drink when I'm 21? Is breaking the law part of the rush? My friends, myself, and acquaintances don't look ahead to how our choices in the present effect our lives in the future. We are babies ourselves, how can we be making choices that lead to children?  We took a survey in my sociology class about our deviant behavior and criminal activity. A vast majority of us have skipped school more than once and nearly 90% drive over the speed limit on a regular bas

I saw my wonderful RA/friend dance in her spring show last Thursday night. Savannah was perfect, of course, but my favorite part was the dance that the special needs group performed. I don't know any of them, but I almost cried anyways (that could be because I'm a total cry baby-shhh, although this shouldn't be a real surprise to anybody). They swayed along to a mix of Umbrella by Rihanna combined with Singing in the Rain, topped off with umbrellas as props.  Sure, they weren't the most coordinated. Yeah, they were a little off beat. Okay, maybe they didn't move as a group. But they had the confidence to get up there in front of at least 150 people, which is more than I can say for myself. I prefer being an audience member--someone has to clap! They helped each other along, one girl poking another with her umbrella when she misstepped and guiding her to the correct place on stage.  The real tearjerker was the moment Rihanna warbled about "you can stand unde

A week ago Saturday found me aimlessly scrolling the Internet. And the new timeline feature on Facebook (which I was at first very much against, but then finally gave in to because of my uncontrollable lust for a cover photo. I also wanted to delete all embarrassing status updates and pictures from previous years before they became public) is truly conducive to heavy duty creeping. I found myself on Marianne's profile (a friend from North Carolina that I still keep in touch with) meandering between the months in 2010. During that period I wasted endless amounts of time, therefore explaining the multiple wall posts from me adorning her profile.  In November 2010 I coated her profile with videos to make up for our lack of skype dates. One of them broke my heart, and I teared up watching it. For one, I looked so sick. Unbelievably skinny, I didn't even sound like myself. I could hear the desparation in my own voice as I explained to her how my life was falling apart and that I

Recently I've been trying to blog a post a day. But I'm stopping that, at least for now. There are lots of factors going into this decision, including:  I have about 20 days left in Norman for this semester. Which means that exams are hurtling towards me at a frightening speed, which means I don't need another excuse to procrastinate.  Putting an expectation on myself takes the pleasure out of writing. When I force words, it's noticeable. I want to claim authorship of a quality blog.  This gives you, dear and faithful reader, a chance to reread, reflect, and even catch up. You're welcome! I've been typing since February, have you made it back that far?  And finally, I am suffering from a severe case of writer's block. Or at least, I was until I started this post. Turns out the most effective laxative for writer's block is to write about writer's block (new tongue twister). Who knows when the source could dry up though, it could be only a tempor

Fair warning: this post could tip a bit to the overly religious side, so stop reading now if you aren't interested. But now I probably made you curious right? Human nature is awesome like that. During my Sunday School years of choir practice and the infamous Bible Buddies, I belted out the song: "Oh be careful little eyes what you see Oh be careful little eyes what you see For the Father up above, He is looking down in love So, be careful little eyes what you see" The song continues throughout four more verses, espousing the virtues of being careful about what you hear, do, go, and say. Recently, I've been overthinking that 3rd and 4th line. I don't doubt that God is looking down in love, but I doubt that's the sole reason to be cautious with my senses. People are people-watchers at heart. I'm the first to admit to hypocrisy. It's not for lack of effort, but it's always easier to walk on the treadmill rather than run. I've b

When I lived in North Carolina I had the privilege to babysit for this amazing all-American family. They have two gorgeous girls, Grace and Emily. It recently came to my attention via Facebook that Gracie is having trouble with some girls, at school I presume. I don't know the entire story, but I was 14 once. And I'm 19 now and the fairer sex has not really changed. Lindsay Lohan starred in the epically mind-numbingly hilarious movie, Mean Girls. Director Tina Fey managed to send an anti-bullying message even while leaving me gasping for air through my giggles. I quote it incessantly, "why are you so obsessed with me?!" Girls are mean. We honestly are. Our instinct is to put down the females around us in order to get a false sense of superiority. And since it's not true superiority, it is fleeting, thus the mean girls cycle is formed. We have an intense competitive nature to be the prettiest, smartest, best-all around. And when we feel that we fail at our goal

I like to fly solo. When I hang out by myself, I have a great time. I love my friends, truly, but there's something perfect about being alone. There are zero expectations. You can be as ridiculous as you want. Lately I've been thinking that I have found two different types of relationships in my friendships. There are the people that I have to make an effort to be around them. They aren't my first choice when I have some free time, they are the last resort (only being honest, not deliberately hateful). We just don't click in a way that makes time whip by. They tend to typically be more self-absorbed and don't respect my priorities. And then I have the friends that I could spend the rest of my life with (I think that's called marriage so I should probably look into that. Kidding: I like guys). I have been blessed with phenomenal companions. They make me laugh and they encourage me to make good decisions (but stay with me through the bad ones). They call me out wh

I mentioned in a prior post that a guilty pleasure includes parenting a miniature family within the mechanical recesses of my phone. The app is called Virtual Families and I go through phases of attentiveness, sometimes opening the app to find a morbid scene of the family members all peacefully dead on the master bed. The start over button is pretty handy. When I pay attention to this game, I'm really good at it. And by that I mean I can type "virtual family cheats" into google. Thanks to a random computer nerd that did the dirty work for me, I clicked some buttons a few days ago and added $100,000 to the bank account. With that money I purchased a treadmill, pinball machine, grill, and a remodeled kitchen, office, and workshop. I stocked the pantry with 1600 available food items. The character, Dynamite, should have had "elated" stamped across his mood status. Instead, it read, "a bit blue"(maybe his name was part of the problem, unfortunately I don

I've recently been consumed by the idea of selfless love. Two different books I've been reading have a theme of love, "The End of the Affair" by Graham Greene and "Blue Like Jazz" by Donald Miller. All of the characters in Greene's novel are depicted as selfish humans only capable of loving in a way that's easy for them. They love in a greedy form versus loving for someone else's benefit.  Miller recognizes the worldly perspective on love as being able to die for something or someone. But he then counters with, "living for something...is the hard thing. Living for something extends beyond fashion, glory, or recognition." Living for someone is the ultimate sacrifice because it involves daily death to your own selfish desires.  I've been trying to practice real love. It doesn't come naturally. My first instinct is to look out for myself and my best, or easier, interests. I need to actively listen to what my friends

"Attention! Attention! Attention! A severe weather storm has been reported. All occupants walk to the nearest recommended severe storm refuge area. Do not use the elevator. Walk to the recommended severe storm refuge area." This was the soundtrack to McCurtain, Cate Center yesterday afternoon. And probably echoing around campus. However, this message didn't really apply to us because Cate Center is way too ghetto to house elevators. The emergency message was clearly directed toward those that pay more to live here. I am comforted by the fact that the top 6 floors of the highly prized towers are designed to fly off in inclement weather like what we were experiencing and what is expected to continue throughout the weekend. Cate Center has been standing relatively steady since approximately the 1930s. I'm fairly certain it can withstand a few more gusts of wind. We also don't have refuge areas. We just piled into the hallway. It sucked. It was smelly. It was 8000 d

As a college student, home has taken on a new meaning. I can refer to home and mean two entirely different geological points on a map: Norman and Oklahoma City. I feel like a potted plant in a Uhaul. It can be placed anywhere, but it doesn't have a permanent home. It can migrate from the living room to the kitchen, from Raleigh to Beaumont, but is constantly packing up its leaves and dirt for the next transfer. I can't wait for the time that I can be thoroughly planted somewhere (preferably not Oklahoma, like we already discussed) and put down worry-free roots. The college home is an independent place. But with my home at OU comes different struggles; constant interaction, constant academic mindset, and less rest. My family's home in Quail Creek has the drawback of consistent (though minimal) supervision, but the plus sides of free laundry, free food, a room of my own, and access to a car.  My family makes that home something wonderful to travel to. I can't wait t

In 5 years I'll be a college graduate (I can hear Paul saying don't count your chickens yet...). In 5 years I'll be 24 years old. That's all I know about my future right now. Where do I want to be in 5 years? Not in Oklahoma for starters. It would be exciting to live someplace like NYC, after all Frank Sinatra proclaims that if "I can make it there I can make it anywhere", but does that also inversely mean that if I can't make it there I can't make it anywhere? I'll find out. NYC might be too high-stress for me though, I'd be happier somewhere like North Carolina or Tennessee. I loved my years in Raleigh and Franklin.  Who will I be in 5 years? I'll have a degree in English. Maybe I'll be lucky enough to get paid to write. Maybe I'll be grading college entrance essays. Maybe I'll still be making smoothies at Jamba (I really, REALLY hope not). I almost hope that I'm not married in 5 years. I can't imagine knowing

On Friday night I joined the masses at Quail Springs Mall to watch the timeless tragedy, Titanic. Both the film and the actual history have always gripped me and James Cameron excels at portraying such an historical event in an increasingly relatable way. I looked forward to the movie for several reasons: 1) I got to spend time with some of my favorite people; 2) I'm pretty sure the last 3D movie I watched was Spy Kids; and 3) Leonardo DiCaprio in 3D is absolute perfection. Leo in any dimension is spectacular. The only thing I was worried about was the topless scene. Boobs in 2D are pretty awkward. Adding a dimension didn't exactly increase my comfort level. I was very surprised that the movie was only rated PG13. I think that much nudity, foul language, and violence merited an R warning.  The division of the classes on the boat always has me on the edge of my seat in outrage. First class life is not more valuable than saved steerage (but at the same time I'm not so sur

My bookshelf is comprised of plane tickets to magical destinations. The best part about these tickets? They are absolutely free. They come compliments of astounding authors, talented writers that have made it their life's work to transport their readers. Some people may drown their sorrows in music, alcohol, food, or social activity. I prefer to lose myself in the pages of a book.  From my grandmother to her bookworm grandaughter Louisa May Alcott takes you to a simpler America in "Little Women", draped in swirling dresses and tight-knit families. Her main characters, Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy, become a part of you, to the point where you can't help but stifle a sniffle when (spoiler alert) Beth dies. With L.M. Montgomery as your companion in "Anne of Green Gables", you jet off to the land of "eh?", Canada. Anne's longing to be chosen and accepted is a recognizable feeling most can identify with and each time I delve into her world I learn s

Snap, crackle, pop y'all! I've got my first real live vocal hater! I received my first negative comment about the blog a few days ago on my post about my black and white opinions.  First, I'd like to give a shout out to Commenter 12321; thanks for the page view! It's heartwarming to see that number increase everyday, knowing my words are affecting people. And clearly they affected this individual, based on the sizzling remarks. The way I see it, having someone disagree so maliciously means that I'm saying something remarkably real. They've every right to their opinions, just as I have to mine. They also have the right to share those opinions via social media, like I choose to do.  They certainly got one thing correct, I do love some Curlz MT font. However, I'm much too naive of a blogger to figure out how to make use of it, plus I personally find Curlz much harder to read and I'd rather my readers be able to decipher my embarrassment of a blog. The

Boyz drool? Middle school flashback. I thought the male population might find some of this information relevant and maybe even enlightening. So listen up, I'm about to rock your world. Girls shed. Kind of like dogs, except that our hair typically smells good. For example, I accidentally yanked out 15 strands of hair from my head the other night. I think they were loose...and I must have helped them out. We can't do anything about it, learn to treasure those stray follicles.  We like to record our lives. Whether it be via twitter, facebook, tumblr, texting, etc, girls like to interact with people. Therefore, we will take lots of pictures to associate faces with the moments that we want to remember for a lifetime. Car doors are heavy. Open them. If all you're serving is beer, it better be something of the lite variety. #divaproblems Romance is a general term. There is a fine line between sweetness and gag-inducing mushiness. Know our limits. Check before you're che

Someone once said that stupidity is doing something over and over again and expecting a different outcome. I'm pretty stupid sometimes. I make lots of mistakes. I disregard excellent advice from well-meaning friends. But I'm insanely stubborn, and something in my brain convinces me that this time, this time, I'll get it right. I'm an egotistical know-it-all and it frustrates me. I think that I can successfully sail through life alone. I SO can't. But I think I've finally learned (at least THIS lesson, I'm sure there are coming attractions/distractions). I'm also sure that my friends are skeptical in a "yeah, right, I've heard that before" way. Which they should be, I haven't backed up my declarations with action (or inaction might be more appropriate for the situation). But I'm resolute in this end. Finally. He didn't respect my words, why should I reward him with my valuable time? (he cut into some serious How I Met Your

Disney bequeathed some unrealistic notions of what an ideal girl is like, but as a result I am positive I would be unstoppable with these characteristics. Belle's heart. She refuses to let first impressions ruin an entire relationship. Her understanding and influence transforms the beast into someone lovable. And I'd be okay with endlessly twirling in that butter yellow dress. Pocahontas' tan. I am addicted to being bronze. My goal might be more readily met if I was Native American...but since I'm stuck being Caucasian I'll continue to sizzle for hours in the sun by day and smear aloe vera on by night. Ariel's smile. She's always got this coy turn to her lips, despite being a ginger and voiceless to boot. I bet she never had braces. Cinderella's innocence. Not to be confused with blondness, Cinderella doesn't seem quite part of this world (Ariel reference, yes). Her spirit is unmarred by false intentions, making her irresistible t

I graduated May 2010 and received, among many other generous gifts, a copy of Michael J. Fox's book, "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Future" from my Uncle Bill and Aunt Jill. I tossed it aside, it masqueraded as a cliche graduation gift and I had checks to cash! Until a few weeks ago it sat on my bookshelf at home, nestled between the other books that I mean to eventually get around to when reading "Little Women" for the zillionth time loses it's appeal. On the way to school after a weekend at home I snatched it from the shelf, intending to select "Blue Like Jazz" (because I still haven't read that one yet either...Sorry Dad). I didn't notice my mistake til I arrived at my dorm and didn't think anything of it, merely placing it in the back of the closet, easy access for the next major procrastination nation party. Saturday afternoon found me lounging in the grass, desperately soaking up the sun  and turning to the first ch

“I am a princess. All girls are, even if they live in tiny, old attics. Even if they dress in rags, even if they aren’t pretty, or smart, or young. They’re still princesses. All of us. Didn’t your father ever tell you that? Didn’t he?”-The Little Princess Paul taught me that I am princess. When I was younger we would go on daddy-daughter dates every so often, maybe once or twice a month. They weren't anything big or fancy, but he would pay for my Sonic drink and still opens the car door for me when he comes to pick me up at school, subconsciously instilling expectations for future boyfriends (so far most have sucked in comparison). He even let me drive his midlife crisis car (a Mercedes convertible SLK? SRK? it's tiny and shiny) a few times in Beaumont; in fact, I think it's about time for another joyride soon... He and I are a lot alike, which has led to some volatile disagreements over the years. We both love to make people laugh, but hate to be wrong. We both used to

I got asked at dinner the other night what my most embarrassing moment ever was. You'd think I'd have to contemplate that for a while, go through my mental files of blush-inducing moments, but there's one incident that leaps to the surface, as much as I've tried to bury it. It was the last summer weekend before high school started. I was an incoming freshman and found myself at the freshman retreat at Camp Oak Hill in North Carolina, designed to make us a giant, happy, drama-free family before being thrust into the upper school. Grabbing my swimsuit (a modest bikini, I thought I was SO cool for having a two-piece), I raced to the zipline, anticipating the inevitable adrenaline rush. A sizable chunk of my classmates sat at the edge of the lake and watched people zip over the glassy surface of the water before plunging into the water and rising up again due to the buoyancy of the line. I tapped my hot pink painted toes on the wooden platform, desperate to show off my

To answer the question posed in the title: My viewpoint on life. You either succeed or fail. You smoke or you don't. You cheat or you choose integrity. I had an interview to have a chance to become a part of Integrity Council for OU's campus a few days ago. I belonged to something similar in high school at St. David's and I loved it. Being a writer, I take plagiarism very seriously and it bothers me when people don't take the time to do their own work. As cliche as it sounds, these lazy beings ultimately cheat themselves out of an education.  All this to say, I think I blew the interview. On my application I made it clear that I perceive the world in black and white and they questioned me about this, saying that some situations that came to the council were a more grey and asked how I could contribute to those with my harsh view. I think my answer was wrong; I proclaimed that I would see the situation in right or wrong first, and then try to incorporate the extenuat