When my youngest brother, Michael, was born back in 1997, everyone was convinced he looked exactly like me. Of course, being a bratty 7-year-old girl back then, I didn’t believe it. But the comments wouldn’t stop. Even strangers and new family acquaintances would marvel over the resemblance between us. As I got older, though, I began to see it bit by bit. We have the same facial shape and this weird morning eyes thing that our faces are contorted in when we wake up. As Michael grew older and developed more of a personality, our mom would not stop comparing us. We’re both stubborn, hot-headed, and just plain weird. We both sing randomly to ourselves, make odd noises, and we have practically the same personality. We’re more social and outgoing whereas my other brother, Jeff, keeps more to himself.

At any rate, now my parents have never been more convinced that we’re secretly twins just seven years apart. Michael’s in the 7th grade now (funny how that number keeps popping up), and all 7th graders have to participate in a science fair. My project when I was in 7th grade had something to do with water evaporation. If I recall correctly, I was testing whether or not different additives affected the rates of water evaporation — something like that.

Michael’s science fair project? How different food colorings affect water evaporation.

It is eerie. My parents theorized that Michael must have subconsciously remembered my own science fair project when he was conceiving ideas for his own. I shot this down, though, because Michael must have been around 4-years-old when I did that, and it was a project that was quickly forgotten after the report was submitted and presentations were finished. There’s no trace of the project left, not after two house moves and the 8(?) years that have gone by; I didn’t win any major prizes, so it’s not like there’s pictures or certificates of me with my water evaporation experiment lounging around the house. Michael himself said that he just made it up, found the idea on his own while researching.

Or, as my mom now says, he just really does think like me. In which case…good god, that kid is going to have some rough years ahead of him.

I’m finding that the longer I neglect my blogging, the more difficult it becomes to put into words just exactly how my life is going.

Am I happy? I can’t quite say. I’m not completely content with the way my life has been going the past few weeks. Once again, I’m in a situation where I’ve set my expectations way too high and as a result I’m moping around because nothing has gone the way I thought they would be. A part of me was expecting winter break to be a fluid continuation of summer. But it’s not. There are people I was hoping to catch up with and people I have been wanting to see. But it seems that winters are my curse. The world has forgotten about me.

I didn’t mean for that to sound as depressing as it did. And now I’m feeling a bit more sad than I intended.

In other news, we (my brother and I) found a Snuggie in the family room today. It was laying folded on top of the sofa we were sitting on, and assuming it was a blanket, Jeff asked me to hand it over to him. But neither of us had ever seen it before. So Jeff unfolded it and was confused. I had never seen a Snuggie up close in person before. It just looks like a massive piece of cloth with two tubes attached. It’s hideous. But Jeff didn’t believe me when I said that Snuggies were supposed to be “blankets with arms” and he started wearing it as a robe.

Turned out the Snuggie came from a casino my parents had gone to over the weekend. I still hate them. They’re still ugly as fuck.

Last night at Brothers, my roommates and I met some people. There was one guy I remember meeting. Can’t quite remember the name (I *think* it’s Luke), but he was wearing a really preppy-looking polo shirt. The conversation went something like this:

Me: What’s your name?
Guy: Luke(?). Yours?
Me: Raissa.
Guy: What?
Me: Ray-sah.
Guy: Huh?
Me: RAISSA!!!
Guy: Okay…nice to meet you, Christina?
Amanda (one of my roommates): IT’S RAISSA!!!!
Guy: Okay, okay. What’s your name?
Amanda: Amanda.
Guy: Oh!! See, that’s easier. I like you better already.

FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE. Fuck you.

I just made the most delicious drink ever.

1. ice
2. 1 shot Smirnoff “with a twist of strawberry” vodka
3. Hawaiian Punch fruit juicy red
4. splash of SunnyD orange juice

Now all I need to do is just come up with a name for it. Enjoy!

I can’t quite say I’m in the holiday spirit right now. And no, that isn’t just because I have a slew of final exams and papers breathing down my neck at the moment.

I just don’t…feel it.

And I mean, I’ve been hearing Christmas music nonstop since Halloween. Our apartment is beautifully decorated with a tree, lights, menorah, everything. But it seriously still feels like summer was only just two weeks ago. You can throw all the 14 degree weather at me, and I still feel like I should be at home doing summery things like play ball or drive to the mall with the windows down.

But then again. I do have quite the slew of final exams and papers breathing down my neck, just waiting for me to tackle them with the typical frenzy of a madwoman infected by one of those diseases you see in zombie films (think Quarantine). Three exams and two papers in one week. How the fuck do they expect us to accomplish all this and still be sane enough to come back for the next semester? More importantly, are they ever going to compensate for the loss of sleep we routinely miss at this time of the year?

And the madwoman frenzy I truly feel will be coming on soon. I tried to make Rice Krispie treats earlier tonight as a friendly parting gift for my SPAN 208 class tomorrow, but the pot I was trying to make them in apparently wasn’t as clean as I thought it was, so the marshmallows I was trying to melt ended up turning gooey brown. It doesn’t taste as disgusting as it looks, but the treats have already hardened a bit too well, and I don’t think I made enough for everyone. Epic fail #1.

Epic fail #2 came when I decided to clean up my eyebrows just a few minutes ago. After a few plucking here and there, I took my scissors out to shorten the length of some of the hairs. But I think it worked a little too well on my left eyebrow. It doesn’t look too disastrous, but my OCD is preventing me from feeling OK with it.