Archive | January, 2012

A total kick in the ass.

27 Jan

I had a really intense conversation with myself yesterday. I said to myself, listen, you are 22 years old. You are graduating in a year. Get your shit together. Everyone has a dream or a goal. You know what yours is. I know it’s scary as hell to pick yourself up and actually do it. You are the queen of excuses. Just figure it out. If you don’t, you will regret it your entire life. 

I have never actually been terrified of losing or failing at something the way I am terrified of regretting 22 years of life making choices. It’s  so hard to admit what I want. It’s not unique or earth shattering. It’s even hard for me to write here, anonymously on the internet. I am even scared of strangers judging me. I am not ready to write it down yet. I can think it in my head all day long and day dream about it, but actually making it a reality makes me break out in hives.


I am scared to fail.

I am scared to succeed.



10 Jan

Defintions were big when I was a kid. We we didn’t know something, or asked what a word meant, the answer was a resounding, “Look it up!” I will never forget the great jig/gig debate of 2005. My dad insisted that “jig” was in fact pronounced “gig”. Nope. I knew I had this one in the bag as I dragged the five inch thick Merriam Webster dictionary we inherited from my dad’s great aunt Madeline to the dining room table. Victory ensued, and I proceeded make the poor man eat crow for days. I still bring it up from time to time, just in case the conversation gets boring.

It seems now that some defintions aren’t always black and white. Take, for example, the definition of “hipster”. According to, a hipster is ” a person, especially during the 1950s, characterized by aparticularly strong sense of alienation from most establishedsocial activities and relationships.” Now then.

If we ask, they have this to say “.One who possesses tastes, social attitudes, and opinions deemed cool by the cool. (Note: it is no longer recommended that one use the term “cool”; a Hipster would instead say “deck.”) The Hipster walks among the masses in daily life but is not a part of them and shuns or reduces to kitsch anything held dear by the mainstream. A Hipster ideally possesses no more than 2% body fat. ”

-The Hipster Handbook, Robert Lanham



A t my school, there is an abundance of these types of people. A majority of them are in my women’s studies class, and their favorite book is The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. Hm. Astounding. I was immediately cast aside for admitting my favorite book is a Nora Roberts novel. I can’t help it that I appreciate well developed characters dashed with a touch of fantasy. They all sat in their chairs, unbrushed hair, many, many layers of random articles of clothing, topped off with thick framed glasses and huge scarves, judging me. Of course, I made matters worse by pulling out my Kindle and using that to read along with the class. One girl actually said, ” I just really love the Dewey Decimal System.” I stared at her and nodded, but in my head I was thinking, when was the last time you used the Dewey Decimal System? It’s archaic and I know the school library doesn’t use it. So you are sitting here judging my 3 ounce e-reader that currently holds 40 books in its library, while you drag around five novels and two textbooks in your super cool knit bag that is giving you a hunchback! I know it’s weird, but I just really love the convenience of my little piece of electronica. Oh, and sorry I forgot my floppy knit hat and chai tea. You really are the worst kind of cliche.

I just really love my Kindle. It doesn’t make me less intelligent than you, or make me some sort of book hater. I wish people would leave it alone.


10 Jan

Ah, the first day of a new semester. All the status updates detailing schedules, bemoaning early morning classes, afternoon classes, and really just any classes in general. And of course the zealous students who are just returning to school after a hiatus, claiming “I love school!” and, “Can’t wait to start learning!” Let us all pause for a moment while I call bullshit on that. I used to be excited about new semesters too. Instead of one chance to reinvent myself every nine months, I got the chance to blossom into who I was “supposed” to be every 15 weeks! Imagine my delight in my second semester of college, returning to my sterile, newly constructed apartment, full of good intentions and aspiring to new, nay unreachable heights.

Fast forward three years. I should be organizing my new notebooks and textbooks right now, yet here I am, staring at my closet and keeping one eye on my new Urban Decay Book of Shadows eye palette. I unearthed a pair of white skinny jeans from the back of the deep abyss that houses my garments and now I can’t stop thinking about them. Those jeans, plus my new eyeshadows, makes it hard for me for to sleep at night, which is not great when I have to be up at 7 A.M. most mornings. They call to me, shining in the dark, pristine white, skinny and high waisted, just begging for a loose knit pink sweater and a copper smoky eye. I am too excited to sleep. Well, not really. I stopped being too excited to sleep when I found out the Halloween fairy was really my mom and she was stealing my candy, not taking it to Candyland and replacing my sweets with trinkets.

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Just trying…

9 Jan

The inaugural post…

9 Jan

This is it, here goes. I have been meaning to start a blog pretty much since I found out what a blog is. I always figured since I spend most of my time reading other people’s blogs, I should try my hand at making one myself. I am not particularly tech-savvy, and I never really know what to say. This blog will hopefully help me to set some goals, discover my real passions, and stretch my idle mind when it feels dormant and dusty. There are some things I am absolutely sure about.

1. I think about food all the time.

2. My hair never does quite what I want it to.

3. My closet is a mess.

4. I am emotionally attached to my Kindle. ( Go ahead and hate.)


So, pretty typical for a college almost-junior. I work, alot. Retail hell, part-time, and I spend most of my six hour shifts imagining how much better my life would be if I didn’t have to sell overpriced lotion 30 hours a week to afford  ramen noodles and frozen peas. (I’m having a moment with frozen vegetables.) School has just barely started for the semester, so we will see how that goes. It always seems promising at first. I spend hours reading articles about how to succeed this semester, and 10 study habits to get in now, and somehow they never seem to stick past the first two weeks. It does help that my science classw doesn’t have a required textbook. Seems legit to me. I suppose I will go and figure out to post pictures now.