On Being Hyper

Hang around me for at least a few hours a day for a few days and you will soon learn that I am extremely hyper...even without the caffeine.  The caffeine is just the drug that keeps my preferred level of hyper up there.  It wouldn't matter if I cut it out, I would still be this crazy, hyper person whose brain is more random than a thousand cheetahs juggling chainsaws aboard a carriage on its way to Caracas.  So I just leave it in the diet.  Occasionally, I'll cut it out for about a week, get some headaches, and then be back on it as soon as the week is over.  But this is not about my not-addicted caffeine problem.  This is about me being hyper.

People tell you to just "Calm down," but I don't see how that's possible.  Taking away my hyper is like taking away Tigger's bounce.  It makes me feel sad and depressed.

Don't you just want to cheer him up?

I mean, yes, I do have times where I am sad or upset about something, but I usually bounce back out of it because I can get cheered up easily most of the time.  I mean, a couple times I've sunk into these three day emotional crises where I just felt upset about something, but it always went away and I was back to normal, hyper Katrina.

But, honestly, I think most people who aren't hyper don't really understand how it feels.  Not every hyper person is actually ADHD, although almost all of us still get called that jokingly because we

Yeah, if you didn't see that one coming, you ain't hung around me long enough.  I have literally changed topic mid-sentence more times than I can...Oh, by the way, I've started watching Duck Dynasty now, which seems like a weird thing to write on a nerd blog because Duck Dynasty is like this anti-nerd...You know what's weird?  People used to make shows where the nerds and the hicks were made fun of, but now they give them their own shows.

Okay, I will try to stay focused.  But, really, the problem with being hyper is that we have all this energy built up inside us.  Some of us are actually really, really smart.  But you have to think that you take the smart and combine it with hyperness.  It's like your brain is moving a million miles per hour and it just takes these jumps all the time.  No one around you can understand the logic of how you got there but you.  But I've already discussed my dotted line of logic when I turned this blog from an MK blog to a nerd and MK blog.

But the worst part about being hyper is not the part where your brain jumps ahead.  That part you can back up and explain how you got there sometimes.  Other times, you definitely can't.

The worst part also isn't when you have to abandon your dorm room before your roommates kill you because you have too much energy to be trapped within those walls with three other people.  Although if it's cold out and you have to go take a walk around campus to burn that excess energy, it can be difficult.  But maybe, you know, you'll find someone and be able to talk to them and keep them from actually doing their homework.

No, the worst part is when you get so excited when you're talking that you start jumping.  I mean, I should have grown out of this when I was seven, but I still do it.  If I have something exciting to tell to a friend or get excited in the middle of a conversation, I will literally start jumping up and down in place.  Like a kid.  Now, maybe this isn't too bad if it's one or two little jumps and then it's over.  Me, I can sometimes keep jumping more times than that if I'm really excited.  I am fully aware how absolutely immature this looks, but turning it off would require concentrating and telling myself to calm down, and when I'm super excited, my brain is focused on one thing and can't really focus on the jumping.

But, come on, other hyper people jump, right?

Yeah, but they don't have a keychain collection on their backpack:

Now, like most collectors, I consider my collection to be a thing of beauty.  I mean, each keychain means something to me, and I'm so very sad when I lose one or one breaks.  However, do you know what sound multiple keychains make as they bump against each other while their owner walks down the sidewalk?

Every person who attended Northland between January of 2009 (when I started wearing my backpack to class) and May of 2012 (when I graduated) can tell you.

Clank, clank, clank.  Jingle, jingle, jingle.

Ah, Northland in the morning:  the birds sing, a soft breeze dances through the rustling leaves, in the distance you can hear the whistle of a security guard on his rounds and the hum of engine of a staff member on his way to work.  Then the tranquility breaks as Katrina leaves the girls' dorm for the day and begins making her way to the dining hall, key chain collection clanking.  I call it my early warning system.  You hear the clanking, you know I'm coming.  And if I want to move silently, I have developed a system whereby I can hold all my keychains in one hand, silencing them, so I can effectively sneak up on you and scare you half to death!  MWAHAHA!

So, you can imagine, multiple times it would happen:  I would be wearing my backpack when all of a sudden a brilliant idea would hit me, and I'd get excited:

"Ooh!  Ooh!  Ooh!"  Katrina jumping, keychains clanking until she finally gets attention or her message out.  A twenty-year-old girl jumping up and down, jingling like she's the caffeinated ghost of Jacob Marley.

Sorry we had to make the Disney reference

I kid you not, it was probably one of the most ridiculous sights I caused on a regular basis in college, and that is including my lack of dance skills or singing ability while vacuuming lecture halls and listening to music on my iPod.

But you know, I still didn't mind because I'm me.  I wouldn't want to change myself because I'm comfortable with being crazy, with being me.  Sometimes, I do have to put on a more professional or formal side, but when I'm most comfortable and lounging around in a hoodie and jeans is when you get to know me.  And, yes, I will probably say the most airheaded things you ever heard come out of a smart person.  And, yes, I will suddenly point out a random bird I saw fly past in the middle of talking about World War II.  And, yes, I will most definitely at least once start jumping up and down babbling about some crazy idea that just hit me.  But if you can put up with all that and still hang around me all the time, we just might end up becoming frie...

Would you like a taco?

What Happens At the Jock Table Anyway?

So, sometimes at college I wondered--okay, yes, to this very day, I wonder what actually went on at the jock table.  More importantly, do the jocks ever wonder what goes on at the nerd tables?  Or is it just we nerds looking across from our "lowly" positions hoping to attain the "higher" athletic position who wonder this?  I mean, once you're a jock you're the top of the world, right?

If any jock ever thinks that, remember that the tech guys are the ones who control the switch that can turn off your internet connection.

That is REAL power.

I mean, come on, I'm all the way across the dining hall, and I would sometimes briefly glance over and wonder, "What do they talk about over there anyway?  I mean, obviously it's something funny because I can occasionally hear the laughter way over here.  But is basketball really that funny?"

Then again, if the jocks ever looked over at the nerds, they probably wondered, "Is computer stuff that funny?"

And, yes, occasionally it is, but we talk about more than that, so I assume the jocks do too.  In fact, I'm pretty sure, just like any normal person at my college, they also got into discussions about theology and bemoaned the taste and smell of dining hall food.

Which really isn't THAT bad (Yes, I hung out with the kitchen workers, and they WOULD appreciate some love once in a while.)

But, honestly, if your computers were working, did you jocks ever know we nerds existed?

Not that it matters to me because I'm perfectly happy with my friends, but sometimes, I'd try to smile at you because you were someone I knew, but I don't think you saw me.  Maybe the girl hyped up on Dr. Pepper wearing a Minion T-shirt isn't your idea of who you want to socially interact with, but the least you could do was at least nod back.  I was happy to see you, and sometimes I just wanted to go up to you and tell you I thought you were awesome in your game last night, but if I can't even manage to catch your attention, you're never going to know.  You aren't my Facebook friend, but it was my status.  You'll never know that in my mind, you are cool.  I would never want your life (girls) or to be your girlfriend (guys), but sometimes I just wanted to say, "You're awesome," but I can't because I can feel the social barriers rising when you pass within three feet of me.

Maybe someone outside of this situation would say, "Just sit among the jocks; get to know them!"  Let me draw you a comic of what happens.

Now, granted, if a jock sits at a nerd table the same thing happens to him/her.  See WHY we don't intermingle?  We are, like, these polar opposite THINGS!  And supposedly opposites attract, but you very rarely see jock guy asking nerd girl out.  Maybe we'll last socially interacting for a couple meals, but it doesn't always last.

It works with magnets and personalities, but not with the social scale.

There are exceptions to this rule.  For example, I went to church with some people who were more at the jock end of things, and for those few hours each week, we got along great and awesome and impacted each others lives, but once we were back on campus, we didn't necessarily always chill and hang out together.  Still, they were the people of the jock crowd that I got to know a bit better, which provided me with proof that these people are actually normal humans.

But, still, I have to wonder what the jock table is like.  I sat there a few times, but most of the time it ended up like the example above:  I had no idea how to follow the conversation and ended up retreating one meal later back to the safety of the round tables in the nerd section.  My brain quickly deleted any information because it absorbed nothing but the awkwardness of the entire situation.

Awkward turle

But then there was one time.  One time that had me inwardly laughing the entire incident, but which I later found out the jocks did not like:  the day the nerds took over the jock table.

Now, you have to understand:  the long table (actually, three tables in a row) in the dining hall closest to the kitchen may as well have had a sign over them that read, "This table is for jocks!  Jocks sit here!  Jock Country Right HERE!"  Even on Saturdays when everyone else was thrown from their routine and sits everywhere because the round tables are shut down, the jocks would still congregate at their table, completely unaffected.  It is where they knew to find each other.

And then one Saturday...

One of my friends who was more on the music person-y nerd side of the social scale, set her plate down there.  The takeover wasn't even on purpose.  She simply chose a seat and sat down.  The rest of us joined her.  Before long, most of the table was filled with music people and drama people and nerds, and we were having a lovely time.  I was sitting towards the end of the table.  I think I had five empty seats to the left of me.  In the next half hour, two of those seats would be sat in.  Only two athlete-type girls dared to still sit at a table that had apparently been polluted by the presence of a couple nerds.  I salute their bravery.  Every other jock started wandering around looking for new seats even when there were only a few of us.  They could have easily sat next to five nerds and overpowered our numbers faster than the time it takes for the goalie to make it across the gridiron and spike a hole in one in basketball.

Don't worry.  I totally know what a tennis court looks like!

Poor confused jocks

But, no, that night, by pure accident, a social experiment was constructed:  what would happen if the jock's table was taken from them?  Normally, my group of friends is the one you will find sitting in little threes or fours scattered around the dining hall as we straggle in on Saturday evening, carefully fitting ourselves around the "regular people" and nerds we don't know as well.  That night, the nerds happened to take over the jock table, and the athletes and their friends were scattered around the dining hall in twos and threes.  I kid you not, it was hilarious to watch over and over again (and I'm sorry to those who didn't find it funny):  a jock would finish getting his food from the line and would look at "his table" and see it filled with people he barely knew.  He would then start scanning the dining hall, looking for a familiar face until he located one; then he could go and sit down.  But as they were going to sit down, almost all of them took one more look at their table, slowly filling up with these strange people discussing important things like Northern Lights trips and stage makeup.  I saw this repeated multiple times.  And for just one night, the jocks had to do what the nerds did every Saturday:  go find their friends among everyone else.

But what would happen if a jock came and sat among the nerd tables?  Just came and set his things down at one of the tables where we all sat before any of us got there?  We know the answer because it's happened.  I can't count the number of times I would look towards one of my regular tables only to see it overtaken by people I didn't normally eat with.  But my eyes would keep scanning, and there, normally not more than two round tables away, I would find my friends again, all eating together.  And I'd come and set my things down, and we'd still all be together.  They put out a napkin, saving a spot for me.  They looked out for me, knowing I'd have a bit trouble finding them.  They called my name if I walked past them.  And we always found each other, and there we would be again.  Tomorrow, we'd have our seats back probably.  We had no worries, no fears.  If we never got that table back, then now we have a new one.  What was more important?  The location or the people we were with?

Jocks, whatever you talk about at your tables, whyever you sit there, remember this:  if the nerds ever kick you out, whether by accident or purpose, it's just a table.  The nerds have spent time developing a system of finding each other and saving seats, and that's not a bad thing.  Maybe that's why one day we'll end up being your bosses, as the cliche goes.  Maybe it's because we had to be flexible, to bend to the whims of the "superior" group, to scramble and come up with the solutions.  The nerd way of life is more than GPAs and glasses and gigabytes and games.  Oh, jocks, as a sports fan, I do see your purpose on this planet, but remember your ability to kick a ball is no more important than my ability to calculate its area (4πr^2).  So next time you see an unfamiliar group at your table, take my advice:  don't inwardly whine about it.  See if you can find your friends, and if you can't, procure several seats and hail down your compatriots as you visibly locate them.  Hey, maybe the new table won't be such a bad place.  After all, the memories you make with your friends are more important than a silly old table anyway.

But, still, if you don't mind me asking...what DOES go on at the jock tables anyway?

Random Q&A

So, I don't really know what to blog about.  My brother wants me to keep who Twelve is a secret, so I can't blog about [NAME REMOVED DUE TO SPOILERS].

So, instead, I will turn to my readers.  In the comments section below, you can now ask me a question.  Any APPROPRIATE question about anything.  If I deem it inappropriate, it will not be answered.

"What can the questions be about?"

Like I said--anything.  As long as it's appropriate and doesn't give away who the Twelfth Doctor is, we're good.

So, I don't know how this is going to work but ask away.

Six Things I Do Not Understand About Americans

I am finally moved into my new house in Indiana now and should be getting my classroom ready for school starting next week, blah, blah, blah; but I am blogging instead about something completely unrelated to that.  In short, the time has come to discuss the things I will never understand about Americans (speaking generally here).

1.  The need to be #1 at EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD!!!!!!  No, seriously, go pick up any magazine or newspaper, and sooner or later, you'll find something claiming that because America isn't #1 at something, we are failing ourselves and all future generations.  Really, so no other country is ever allowed to have a shining moment?  America must be the leader in education, GDP, conservation, science, safety, industry, etc.?  And the worst part is that despite all these articles, we never seem to start doing whatever the #1 country is doing to make it work.

2.  They have every resource in the world to learn about everything but don't.  Seriously, you don't know where Iraq is on a map?  America has been fighting Iraq for, like, over ten years, right?  You have Google, portal to the entire Internet.  What is your excuse?  I don't blame you for not knowing where specific towns within the country are, but with all your resources, can't you just, maybe...look at a map?  Learning something won't kill you.  The primary reason America isn't #1 at everything isn't the government's fault.  It's the average American's for refusing to learn anything beyond what the Kardashians are doing next.

 

3.  The dichotomy of "You don't know that?" vs. "But you're a missionary kid!"  This one is very MK specific.  If I don't know some aspect of pop culture, I'm criticized for being ignorant.  If I do know some aspect of pop culture, I'm greeted by the shock and horror of, "But you're a missionary kid!"  I've gotten, "You don't know that?" over The Matrix trilogy, yet "But you're a missionary kid!" over Madagascar.  Please, people, some consistency would be very nice. 

Apparently, a true missionary kid would not know the words to, "I like to move it, move it!"

 

4.  Slaughtering pronunciations of borrowed foreign words.  Now, as a kid, you learn to read and you pronounce words wrong, but get corrected by an adult who informs you "It is pronounce e-GREE-jous," and you learn to pronounce it correctly because that's the right thing to do.  But Uncle Sam forbid that we learn to pronounce karate, futon, or kamikaze properly.  Nope, sorry, someone important slaughtered the word, and we just claim we have Americanized the word and plunge on, refusing to fix it when someone who actually speaks the language corrects us.  (Reassurance:  No one complained when I stopped pronouncing emu e-moo and started saying e-myoo.).  Are there multiple pronunciations to some words?  Yes; toe-may-toe vs. toe-mah-toe, zee-bra vs. zeh-bra.  But when you start borrowing the word, could you at least send over businessmen who actually bother trying to pronounce words properly? 

This emu is shocked at American pronunciation.

5.  The English system (pounds, inches, etc.) and soccer.  Just switch, please.  Okay, I know there's the matter of American football (Three days until the Packer preseason game!), so I guess I'll allow soccer to slide.  But, really, while the rest of the world uses grams and meters, why are you still literally stuck in the Dark Ages using measurements based upon the distance between the king's nose and wrist?

6.  Why, when traveling internationally, you apparently believe speaking louder and slower helps.  If the person doesn't speak English, no matter how loudly or slowly you say, "I.  WANT.  TO.  CHANGE.  MY.  FLIGHT," they still won't understand you.  Imagine if a Chinese person started speaking to you, and no matter how many times you said, "I don't speak Chinese," they kept repeating themselves louder and slower.  Would you understand them any better?  You would not.  Although a lot of people do understand English, when you find one who doesn't, maybe try someone else if at all possible.

Another hint:  Next time, try pointing at the items you want if you can.  It helps a lot.

So, there is my little rant of the day before I spend the rest of my evening "watching" Fantasia while cutting out letters for my bulletin board on Early American Explorers.  Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not upset about being American or living in America.  Y'all are just a bunch of weirdos sometimes.  I could also come up with more, but I won't because I'll probably offend you, and then I'll get sued.

'MERICA!!!!!!!!!!!!