Why I’ll Probably be Arrested

Your imaginations are probably running wild right now.  What did I do that’s going to get me arrested?  Did I kill a man?  Steal my neighbor’s new Apple TV?  Snort cocaine off the back of my illegal pet lion?

Image from lionking.wikia.com

No, nothing like that.  I know, it’s disappointing.  Sorry, guys.

I do, however, have one particular hobby that’s frowned upon by law enforcement, if not downright illegal.  This is a wonderful activity widely known as urban exploring.

For those of you who don’t know, a rough definition of urban exploring is when one ventures into abandoned buildings and other places normally off limits to the public.  I love doing this.  There’s just something about old, long forgotten places that really attracts me.  Just think about it -a crumbling house on the side of the road was once someone’s home.  They laughed there, cried there, had fights, triumphs  and tragedies, sang songs and cooked dinners.  And now there’s nothing left.

If anyone has read Paper Towns by John Green (mild spoiler alert!), you might recall the abandoned mini mall that Margo led Q to.  That’s a good example of urban exploring.

Representation of the Osprey; Image from wordsontheshelf.blogspot.com

I like walking through these hollow shells while trying to imagine this rich and colorful past.  It really does wonders for writer’s block, that’s for sure.

My first conquest was a ramshackle house at the back of a neighborhood.  It was known as the Tiger House to all the kids in the area because of the story behind it.  I’m not sure if it’s true or not, but I’ve heard quite a few different variations.

The basic gist is this:  A man in the neighborhood kept tigers in his backyard.  This was illegal, much like keeping a lion as a pet and snorting cocaine off its back is illegal.  Despite the law, Tiger Man’s big cats remained in the large cages where he showed them off to friends and family whenever he got the chance.  One day, Tiger Man was feeding his exotic pets while his wife and son were at the store.  He was mauled and killed by a tiger and died in the backyard.  Upon returning home and finding her husband’s mutilated body, the wife hung herself and her child from the tree in the backyard.

Of all the versions of this story, the most consistent detail is the guy getting killed by a tiger.  That’s about the extent of my knowledge on the house’s history.

Now, when I first heard about this place, I thought it was total BS.  What nut job would try to keep tigers?  It sounded ridiculous, but I was intrigued.

My first excursion to the house was at night.  The first thing I noticed was a rusty streetlamp that looked like it was from the 1800’s.  It was pretty creepy.  Next I was able to make out the outline of a broken metal cage among the weeds…

The inside of the house was absolutely covered in graffiti.  Some of it was juvenile, like an assortment of dick pics along with lewd phrases, but there were a few more artistic pictures.  I liked the floor-to-ceiling depiction of a red demon the best.

Here’s a photo of the outside of the house that I took during the day:

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I really wish I’d taken more pictures, but both times that I was there during the day I was nearly caught by the authorities.  Needless to say, it’s very difficult to sprint from a cop while taking excellent photographs.

The second time I had to run my friend basically tossed me over a brick wall.  Also not a great photo op.

To wrap it up, that’s why I’m probably going to get arrested one day.  Next month I’m staying a few days in LA, and I’ve already started looking up any potential trespassing opportunities.

Much Love,



The Happiest Place on Earth

So, next semester I’m going to be packing up my things and moving halfway across the country to sunny Orlando so that I can work for and go to school at Disney.  I can still hardly believe this is happening.  It absolutely blows my mind.

I applied for the Disney College Program on a whim, thinking that there was no possible way I’d ever get in.  I heard about it from my public speaking teacher when I’d been hunting for internships and decided, “Why not?”

Picture from pointpark.edu

Fast forward to a few days later and I was taking the online test, and then a few weeks later I was on the phone with a recruiter from Disney.  At the time I didn’t think I’d be able to participate, since I have a substantial scholarship at my university and I would possibly  have to forfeit it if I left school for a semester.  So, I was pretty unconcerned about the outcome during the phone interview.  Part of me wanted to bomb it because then I wouldn’t have to regret turning an offer of employment down.

Ironically, the fact that the interview didn’t really matter to me was probably why I got in.  I was relaxed, my anxiety didn’t make me trip over my words, and I didn’t go off on any long, unrelated tangents.  I nailed it.

You can imagine my frustration when a few hours later I got an email offering me a position at Disney World in Orlando.  Really?

Of course, I couldn’t let an opportunity like that pass me by.  Everyone knows that Disney is a great company to work for with a variety of jobs to choose from.  If I could get my foot in the door by doing the Disney College Program, the possibilities were endless.  Not to mention that Disney offers an entire class dedicated solely to networking.

Getting my university to make sure my scholarship would still be here for me when I was done wasn’t easy.  I bent over backwards to make it happen.  I’m honestly not sure how I was able to pull it off, but once I paid my deposit for Disney I was determined.  Losing $350 didn’t sound great, and that’s what would’ve happened if I had to withdraw from the DCP.

And now here I am, Florida-bound and ready to rock some Mickey Mouse ears.  I’m a little nervous, but the Disney apartments are hella nice, I love the beach, and I get in free to all the parks while I’m an employee.  Who could ask for more?  My mother isn’t thrilled, but that’s okay.  I know I’ll be fine.

Picture from Pinterest.com: Some of Disney’s housing.  I *think* this complex is called The Commons

Besides, Tina Fey was right.  I can’t overthink things too much.  I just need to dive in and hope everything works out in the end.


Picture from contessabessa.com

What Cereal Means to Me

Welcome, all.  Thank you for clicking on this blog, though I honestly don’t know how you’d end up here.  I’m willing to bet it was like the time that I was driving around aimlessly, trying to give myself some space to think, and before I knew it I was in the drive thru of a seedy 24-hour Mexican restaurant.  Are you all experiencing the same feeling of profound regret and despair? Because the second I looked up and saw the flickering neon sign begging for a bolt of lighting to streak down and put it out of it’s fluorescent misery, I know I wanted to throw my Corolla in reverse and get the hell out of there.  Unfortunately, a large white truck that looked like the vehicular version of an unfriendly drug addict had pulled up behind me.

Don’t let your own out of control use of personification force you to purchase a greasy burrito.  And by that I mean freedom is only a click away for you.

Nonetheless, I’m still going to talk to myself on this little blog, so you’re welcome to stay and get the inside scoop about my Very Super Fascinating Life.

I’ll start off by letting you know that I live in Arizona.  Now, Arizona does have cactus, an extreme lack of rain, and random bones scattered throughout the desert.  This is true.  Some parts of our state are 100% stereotypical.  I remember once when I was playing tennis, a dust storm came out of nowhere and everyone had to dodge angry tumbleweeds while practicing serves and volleys.  I had another friend who was driving at night and stopped to try to coax a stray dog over to her, only to find out that it was actually a coyote.  I was raised in the Arizona-y part of Arizona.


However, drive three hours north and it turns into a whole other world.  There are pine trees everywhere, your skin doesn’t feel like it’s going to turn to dust and blow away any minute, and it even snows in the winter.  In fact, earlier this year northern Arizona was the coldest place in the country for a while.


I currently live in Northern Arizona.  It’s a big change, but I like it.  I call the shots, I buy my own food, I pay the bills.  (Well, except for this one bill that was really huge so I just kept throwing it in the garbage and I’m still waiting for someone to show up at my dorm and throw me in jail.)  The hardest of these three adult things is definitely buying food.

I am incapable of grocery shopping by myself.  Once I walked to Target intending to buy peanut butter and I walked out with a new hat, a record player, and no peanut butter.  It’s a real problem.

In fact, the only thing I can seem to successfully purchase is cereal.  I live off of cereal.  I eat it 24/7, with or without milk, usually in a mug because I have one bowl and I’m not sure where it is right now.  I’m confident that I’d be dead right now if it wasn’t for cereal.  Special K, in particular.  Like the drug, (or so I’m told) it’s addictive, healthy for you, and made from horse tranquilizers.  (Just kidding.  Please don’t sue me, Special K.)

So, in a way this blog is kind of like Special K.  It’s not gluten free and once you start reading it you just can’t stop.  I’m not too sure if you can lose weight from this blog, though.  That’s still under investigation.

Have a good rest of your weekend, everyone!