15 Things That Inexplicably Freak Me Out

1. The ball of dried up lotion that forms over the opening of the lotion bottle pump. Whenever I rub my hands together and feel it between my palms, a shiver travels from deep inside my gastrointestinal tract, up through my esophagus, and out my skin. I have to flick it away as quickly as possible, not caring where it lands, as long as it’s no longer on ME.

2. The hard, dried-up edge of a piece of cheese that’s been sitting in the fridge too long. I have to make a 2-inch diameter cut around the end of the dryness just to eat it—and by then, the provolone has completely lost all its integrity.

3. Eating a too-long piece of spaghetti, not being able to swallow it, and then feeling it sliding allllll the way up my throat as I’m pulling it out.

4. Crunchy peanut butter. In high school, I once traded my turkey sandwich for my friend’s peanut butter and Fluff. We have creamy peanut butter at home, so when I bit into the sandwich and instantly crunched on something that I irrationally thought was my tooth, I was traumatized by the crunchiness of the Jiff for life. (This is sad—I used to love crunchy peanut butter!)

5. Q-tips reaching too far into my ears and touching the back of my throat. I don’t know the exact physiology, and maybe it doesn’t ACTUALLY touch the back of my throat, but it sure as heck feels like it.

6. Orange circus peanuts. Hello, gag reflex.

7. The skin that forms on top of cooling hot chocolate. When I was younger, I used to go Christmas caroling with neighbors. When we got back, the hostess always made us hot chocolate—which should be in quotation marks, because there is NOTHING hot chocolatey about heating up Turkey Hill 2% lowfat chocolate milk in a saucepan over the stove. Not only is the flavor just off, but if you leave your cup alone for .02 seconds, this skin develops over the surface that you have to peel up and put on the edge of your cup. Ew.

8. The word “moist.”

9. Congealed oatmeal. Just today, I made myself oatmeal and got distracted and forgot to eat it. When I returned to the once-steaming, delicious bowl of Splenda-and-cinnamon hearty goodness, I saw that it became a cold, Splenda-and-cinnamon bowl of jellied oats and water. The surface of oatmeal shouldn’t bounce when you lightly touch it with your spoon, right? Growing up with the “don’t waste ANY food!” mentality, I braved one slithery, slippery bite of oatmeal (that had no business being called “oatmeal”)—and no more.

10. The water in the cottage cheese container before I stir it. Sure, it stirs up in 2 seconds so I don’t have too long of grossed out-ness, but that slightly-off color liquid in the middle of the container really just makes me wonder…what, exactly, am I eating?

11. The feeling of falling off the bed when I’m going to sleep. I realize it’s some kind of scientific, explainable thing, but I just hate it.

12. The rubbery yet hard cartilage nub that catches me completely off guard when eating chicken. It just bounces between one’s teeth in such an undesirable way. (Note: I don’t think this should be considered “inexplicable,” because I really don’t know if anyone would NOT be grossed out by that.)

13. The stringy things on the roof of my mouth when I burn it on a hot piece of pizza. (Yes, you all know what I’m talking about.)

14. Getting a paper cut on the tip of my finger. The paper cut itself isn’t what bothers me—it’s the process of actually feeling the edge of the paper slicing through the top layer of my skin that just sends chills through my body.

15. Accidentally swallowing my cough drop.

"I was woken up this morning by the massive sound of everyone dropping their new year's resolutions" --David Spade

Every New Year, I make the same resolutions. Lose weight, bring up my GPA, and read more books. And every year, they're broken by Week 1. This year, I decided to go with resolutions that may be more easily feasible.

Ingrid's 2011 New Year's Resolutions

1. Don’t drop anything in the toilet.
2. Learn something other than a bad karaoke version of “I Will Always Love You” with which to serenade my roommates while in the shower.
3. Try to limit my shoe shopping to just one pair of hot pink heels.
4. Stop gorging on pokey sticks, pizza, Chinese takeout and Ben and Jerry’s every weekend with the justification that “calories don’t count on weekends.” My skinny jeans are now telling me “yeah, they do.”
5. Broaden my horizons in the kitchen—and stop considering “adding an egg to the Ramen Noodles” to be sophisticated cooking.
6. If I’m going to take the bus, it has to be for longer than just one stop. Unless it’s raining. Or snowing. Or exceptionally cold, windy, cloudy, or anything other than 70-degree sunny skies.
7. Stop using the excuse of “having a good hair day” for not going to the gym.
8. Change my sheets.

A Letter To My Readers

Dear Readers,
I'd like to thank you for reading my blog since I started it a few months ago. It's encouraging to know that my writing is being enjoyed! But I would love to see some comments or "likes" on my blog posts. Having those small bits of encouragement directly on my blog really motivates me to keep going. Also, if you would "follow" my blog (you don't even need your own account!), that would be awesome too, just so I can know how many of you are reading it.
Thanks so much for all the support! You guys are great, and I would love to be able to go back to past blog posts to see who liked them and what I can keep writing about!

Enjoy your Thanksgiving, and keep reading!

Love,
Ingrid

Sisters Are A Girl's Best Friend

When we were little, my sisters and I would parade around the house with a newly-finished cardboard toilet paper roll, holding hands and singing our made-up song: “Toilet Paper! Toilet Paper! Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo! Toilet Paper! Toilet Paper! Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo!” until we were completely exhausted.
We have a home video documenting a particular episode in which Kristina, my older sister, actively took the lead in the parade. I was in the middle, happily following along but not really paying much attention and Laura, the youngest (about one year old and still with no speaking abilities—I must say, she has made up for that by now), struggling to keep up on her stubby little baby legs. Laura had a peculiar habit of breaking away from my grasp to step on an old book—I believe it was Anne of Avonlea—that was lying on the floor of the blue-and-black tiled foyer (my parents have since replaced that unpleasing tile with a black and white checkered floor, a feat that took almost an entire year to complete). She would make sure to get both feet on the book, raptly staring at it, and then run off to find her older sisters again. At one point in the festivities, I nonchalantly swung Laura around the corner of the living room (luckily covered in a cushiony, light blue carpet) a bit too quickly, causing her to lose balance and fall over. It wasn’t until she cried out that I even realized it, and Kristina—ever the big sister—commanded, “You go first. I’ll hold Little’s hand,” becoming the new middleman between Laura and me.
The video ends there—I’m sure my dad could only take so much—but that five-minute clip is one of the earliest documentations of not just the relationship, but of the individual personalities of the Krecko sisters, which remain in full effect to this day.
We’ll start with Kristina. As the oldest sister, she takes the lead. She is the one who keeps Laura and me going around and around the house, never ceasing. When I came to college, Kristina was already a junior. She lead me in college life—helping me study, be motivated, and not be so alarmed when my exam scores weren’t as good as in high school. We went to the library together, ate together in the dining hall, and she let me stay over when I was having roommate problems. Her senior year, she cooked dinner for me (a generous gesture, considering she had to buy her own food AND actually cook it—something a college student rarely likes to do), let me hang out with her friends, helped me find research labs, and was constantly sending me emails and Facebook messages about different studies, labs, academic opportunities, and grad school information. Kristina guided me through college life, and without her, my grades and study habits wouldn’t be nearly as good.
Laura is two years my junior. She and I have a goofier relationship than I do with Kristina (Laura and I used to skip down the aisles of the grocery store near our Michigan summer house chanting “Beefaroni, Beefaroni shh!...Beefaroni Beefaroni shh!”—and this was at an embarrassingly old age). Now, I have replaced Kristina as the older sister in college, and Laura has taken my shoes as the wide-eyed freshman who has no clue what to do.
Well, that’s not entirely true. Her slightly obsessive need to step on the abandoned book in the middle of the floor foreshadowed her current desire to succeed—in everything. Like Kristina, Laura is an intense undergraduate who seems to be born with the ability to study ad nauseam. So when she came to college, my little sister did not need my advice on how to study (I needed hers!); she needed my guidance for how to have fun. I take her to parties, make sure she gets on the lists at frats, convince her that it is okay to go out despite an exam on Monday. Just how I bridged the gap between Kristina and Laura in our toilet paper extravaganza, I still come in between them to balance out the intensity. And I know that if there’s something I can’t help Laura with, before I send her careening to the floor, Kristina will tell me to get in front so she can take Little’s hand.
As for me? I’m still that typical middle child, the Type B between two Type A personalities. As different as I am from my two academically-oriented, science-loving, concentrated sisters, I get along with them better than I do with anyone else. My sisters are my best friends, as they have been since the days of our toilet paper parades, and they always will be.

An Open Letter to the Overzealous Voice Box

Dear Boy Who Has No Concept Of Whispering In The Designated Quiet Areas Of The Library,

Here I am, sitting in my favorite room of the library. I have neatly and carefully laid out my books, binders, notecards, pens, Fiber One bar, coffee and water bottle in very specific locations around the perimeter of my seat according to both my to-do list and anticipated metabolic needs. Highlighter poised, I have begun my first assignment, ready to enjoy the peaceful, quiet environment conducive to memory retention and concentrated diligence.

And then you walk in.

You enter quietly, seemingly harmless, yet beguilingly dangerous. Sauntering around the room, you sneak peeks down at the students already sitting, trying to catch someone’s curious—and usually irresistible—glance upward to see who is walking by. You choose a spot a few tables down from where I have set up camp, nonchalantly clunking your backpack onto the table with an echoing thud, and sit down.

I notice that it takes you a small fraction of the time to pull out a book, wide-ruled notebook, and pencil (I notice that you don’t even bother with the triviality of a highlighter) that it took for me to prepare for my studyfest daylong, but shrug off this first sign of trouble. Maybe you’re just a light packer, but nonetheless just as studious as the rest of us. For the next three and a half minutes, all is well. You start reading your textbook, and I blithely go back to mine.

And then your buddy walks in.

First comes the obnoxious high five-turned-handshake that, upon impact, smacks the palms of your hands together just a little too loudly for comfort. I, in turn, snap up my head, bracing myself for what’s next.

“Yo man, what’s up?” I hear you say, loud and clear. Your friend, surprisingly, mutters an inaudible response, and I hope that maybe his “learn by example” method works for you. However, you thrust out the adjacent chair, bang the table with the palm of your hand, and utter the dreaded phrase I had been praying not to hear:

“Aight, let’s do this effing assignment.”

Can you please explain to me why the loudest person in the library is also the one who always, always does homework with a friend? You proceed to rant for 15 minutes about how you just can’t get this one differential equations problem because the foreign TA with his unintelligibly thick accent can’t teach for his life, and on top of that, you didn’t get to hook up with the hot chick from your Bio class last night because her boyfriend was watching you like a hawk the whole time, but it’s okay because you almost landed the cute girl from the gym, but she left too early and you were too wasted to follow her—oh yes, Mr. Obnoxious, I can hear everything.

Do you see people casting subliminal glances your way, politely saying, “Excuse me, we can hear you and it’s annoying?” Or do you simply think we’re all just checking you out, because you look especially good today?

Either way, I don’t understand why you want the entire library to know about your love life—or, as it seems, lack thereof. I keep hoping that you’ll suddenly become aware of your surroundings, alertly embarrassed for having caused such a ruckus (not to steal Richard Vernon’s favorite word). Or maybe your friend will subtly hint that you two should move somewhere else. But as I keep listening, I hear no prelude to a halt in your noisy oblivion.

The worst part is, I want so badly for you to be quiet so I can go back to my work undisturbed, and yet I find myself raptly listening to the unfolding adventures of your drunken, loveless Thursday night. You have me trapped under your loud, disturbing, disgustingly inconsiderate spell—after all, what could be more fun than silently eavesdropping on a stranger’s pitiful evening? Certainly not the neuronal pathways of a frog’s sciatic nerve.

But now, I suddenly realized that my studying has come to a complete standstill for the last 20 minutes, and something must be done about you. You have distracted me long enough, Oh Loud One, and it’s time for me to put on my big girl pants and ask you for some volume control. I apologize in advance for so brazenly calling you out on your overzealous larynx, but a nerd’s gotta do what a nerd’s gotta do. Hopefully in the future, you will remember the little library frequenters who actually use the building as a place to silently concentrate, and gossip while lifting weights—the clanking and whirring machinery might better muffle your venting sessions than do the flipping of pages and furious scribbling of pens. Thanks in advance.

Sincerely,
A Silent Studier Who's Losing Patience

The Art of Posing

It took me quite a while to master the art of posing for pictures. In my awkward years, I had a habit of lifting my head up and back, creating an unsightly double chin that occupied the width of my chubby face. When I was old enough to realize that this was an issue that only tubby people dealt with, I started to change my picture style. Instead of lifting my head up, I decided to point my chin down. For some counter-intuitive reason, putting my chin down eliminated the second chin. I also realized that my face had to be straight-on to the camera lens, lest I see the remnants of a double chin on the side. These early strategies have shaped how I pose for pictures—to this day, I still try my best to face the camera dead-on, keep my chin slightly tilted down, and all the while smile as if I look like this all the time.

Face it. Everyone wants to look good in pictures. You want to look skinner than you do in real life, you want to look prettier than you do in real life, and you want to look like you’re not even trying to look skinner or prettier—that it comes naturally.

After perusing my Facebook friends (“perusing,” in this case, is a euphemism for “creeping”), I have come to some very specific conclusions of how, exactly, people achieve this feat of looking their best, and have compiled a list of the most common poses that boys and girls strike before the camera flash. (I should admit right now that I, too, am guilty of using all of these strategies. And they work!)

Ladies, your pose in a photo can make or break the possibility of a new profile pic. Here are the things a girl must do to look good.

1. Hand on the waist. This is important, for it not only emphasizes the smallest part of your torso, but it also creates a slimmer, toned arm. Don’t you hate when the fat at the armpit crease wrinkles up, giving the appearance of untoned, jiggly flesh? With the arm in a bent position, that problem is eliminated. Be careful, though—this pose can look stilted and unnatural, especially if another girl is doing the same thing. In that case, bringing your arm just SLIGHTLY back but still relaxed and down will do the trick. And don’t forget the shoulder pop! I’ve found that raising my shoulder up and bringing it out makes it look bonier, and gives the appearance of a thinner overall body.

2. Shift your weight entirely to the side of your bent arm. Again, this emphasizes the small waist on which your hand is resting, and gives nicer curves of the hips—an overall good position to emphasize proportional curves. Some girls make the mistake of shifting their weight to the OPPOSITE side, which looks awkward and completely negates the small-waist illusion.

3. Bend one knee and bring it in toward the other knee. For some reason, this popular fad has been deemed cute.

4. Tilt your head—BUT NOT TOO MUCH. You don’t want to look like you have strabismus; you want to indicate that you’re happy, carefree, and not at all worrying about whether or not you’ll have to untag this picture later.

5. Suck in. This should be pretty self-explanatory. However, take caution that sucking in your belly automatically causes most girls’ shoulders to rise up (okay with the one that you’re already raising; not okay for the other). Learn to isolate only the abdominal muscles when sucking in, and you’re golden. I have practiced in front of a mirror, and now bringing in my belly comes completely naturally to me.

I haven’t completely mastered the art of a guy’s pose—all I have been able to conclude is that, for the most part, every single guy wants to look bigger than he actually is. From checking out multiple male Facebook friends’ pictures, I have decided upon the top 3 things guys do for pictures.
1. Stick out their chests.
2. Pull back their arms to create the illusion that their pecs are bigger.
3. Flex. Some guys are incredibly talented at flexing without giving away the secret in their faces; others, not so much.

The major discrepancy I have seen between girls and boys is the angle at which the picture is taken. A boy absolutely LOVES their pictures being taken from below—it makes him appear taller and bigger, and I’ve noticed that the double chin issue of doing this is trivial and irrelevant.

This seems totally unfair to me, as I absolutely detest pictures of me taken from below. After constant reminders to the photographers to “take the picture from above,” my friends have dubbed me Queen of Above Angles. I know it’s annoying, but I say, do what you gotta do to look good! And I know I’m not alone in this case—Facebook is ridden with photos of girls’ faces holding the cameras up, pointing down at their pointy chins and high cheek bones (facial features that suddenly appear in these pictures, yet that these girls oddly seem to lack in the real world). But do I judge them?

Not at all.

hasta la vista, baby!

Finally, after 6 semesters (including two summer sessions), I am finally getting ready to move OUT of the residence halls and into an apartment! Despite some trepidation I have about living in an apartment (I have to cook MY OWN FOOD? And wash my own dishes?!), ultimately, I have concluded that apartment life will be much cooler, more exciting, and just overall more awesome than living in the dorms. Here are the top 15 reasons why I can’t wait to say adieu to dorm life FOREVER!

1. No more flip flops in the shower.

2. No more weekly emails from a coordinator about how to serve the community.

3. Nobody will be swiping into the building to see if the doors still work—yes, auxiliary police, they still work.

4. The bathroom will never be “Closed For Cleaning” at the most inconvenient times possible.

5. No more screaming kids at 10:00 when I’m trying to study—or SLEEP.

6. So long, fire drills!

7. I won’t have to wait in line for food—and I can eat whenever I want, whatever I want (to the extent of my culinary expertise, of course…good thing I love pasta and grilled cheese.)

8. I can prop the door open for as long as I want without an alarm going off that alerts all of State College that I violated some dorm rule.

9. No more roommate agreement and check-out forms

10. My mail will come to the same building I’m living in.

11. I won’t be able to succumb to the daily temptations of Creamery ice cream and warm, melty chocolate-chip cookies in the dining halls that continually sabotage my ever-existent diet.

12. I can keep my door unlocked when I leave my bedroom to eat.

13. I can sing in the shower (without any strangers hearing, anyway…)

14. I don’t have to use ugly bed risers and bendable desk lamps that look like they belong in “Back to the Future.”

15. I will know everyone who will be sitting on our toilet—and know that they're all clean.