...to go on Facebook and see how your old friends have turned into hotties. One guy in particular, could be an Abercrombie model right now. It's refreshing to look back on the past and say "Damn... I was his first kiss".
It's also amazing to see that some of your Facebook friends are fashion designers, world-class performers, and incredible academics.
Short but sweet, and the product of my days.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
This Is What Happens...
...when I start watching TV series on YouTube.
My latest obsession? Greek. Which is a show about frats and sororities, which is complete trash television. Needless to say, I'm hooked. And, as with most other things, I can't help relating my life to the show. Bear with me.
If you've ever seen the show, you know that one of the main characters, Casey, is in a loving and (mostly) committed relationship with Evan. Her first love, Cappie, is constantly trying to sway her from him, although Evan has money, a reputation, a plan for the future, and status. Cappie is just there to have a good time, but he's really into Casey.
Now, in my life, I don't know how to draw this parallel. I'm in this relationship that will end by the summer's end, and we both know that. So, I suppose, he's my Evan. Also in my life, I have a Cappie. I've written about him before, and the temptation still stands.
Besides all of that, the whole party aspect is starting to intrigue me. Not to the point of making me get smashed every weekend, but maybe urging me to experiment with some liquor before I go to college. Aside from the occasional sip at dinner, I haven't ever drank anything. Now, I'm in a binding but non-legal and unspoken contract not to, due to some volunteer work that I completed in May. The sobriety is supposed to last us through August, but I'm not so sure.
Maybe it wouldn't kill me to drink. But, that might just be the summer mindset at the moment. It's causing me to consider some pretty risky decisions. Some things that I wouldn't consider myself ordinarily doing. But then again, error is useful, helpful, and natural in life. Does the fact that it'd be calculated error change those benifits?
My latest obsession? Greek. Which is a show about frats and sororities, which is complete trash television. Needless to say, I'm hooked. And, as with most other things, I can't help relating my life to the show. Bear with me.
If you've ever seen the show, you know that one of the main characters, Casey, is in a loving and (mostly) committed relationship with Evan. Her first love, Cappie, is constantly trying to sway her from him, although Evan has money, a reputation, a plan for the future, and status. Cappie is just there to have a good time, but he's really into Casey.
Now, in my life, I don't know how to draw this parallel. I'm in this relationship that will end by the summer's end, and we both know that. So, I suppose, he's my Evan. Also in my life, I have a Cappie. I've written about him before, and the temptation still stands.
Besides all of that, the whole party aspect is starting to intrigue me. Not to the point of making me get smashed every weekend, but maybe urging me to experiment with some liquor before I go to college. Aside from the occasional sip at dinner, I haven't ever drank anything. Now, I'm in a binding but non-legal and unspoken contract not to, due to some volunteer work that I completed in May. The sobriety is supposed to last us through August, but I'm not so sure.
Maybe it wouldn't kill me to drink. But, that might just be the summer mindset at the moment. It's causing me to consider some pretty risky decisions. Some things that I wouldn't consider myself ordinarily doing. But then again, error is useful, helpful, and natural in life. Does the fact that it'd be calculated error change those benifits?
Sans One Person
That's pretty much the summation of my entire week, right there. It was perfect, sans one person. That doesn't mean that there was someone present in my life that I wish wasn't there, but rather someone absent that I wish had been a part of the last week of my life.
I had the privilege to travel to Joplin, Missouri to help them recover from the tornado that happened thirteen months ago. The physical labor was exhausting, hot, I have a horrible farmers tan, but this week is always the week of my summer that seems the most memorable and certainly the most rewarding. Helping others has been a large part of my life for a long time, and growing closer to my church family is always a benefit. I don't often talk about my religion, but when I do, I do so with passion.
Then, shortly after I came back, I had two evenings filled with theater people whom I miss and love. It was such a relief to see them all again, and they made me laugh without end. I always adore their ability to make me smile and forget about the less-desirable aspects of my life.
The one person I missed is the one person most likely reading this post. His nocturnal schedule and insight are compatible with mine, and I always benefit from us spending time together. And to you, C, I hope you make the mistake you're hesitant of making. Live a little. It may be a mistake, but frequent errors prevent people from expecting perfection of you. Trust me, I know. Besides, is it a mistake if it never leaves the circle of people closest to you? Don't confuse mistakes with learning. You have to cross the line just to remember where it lays.
I had the privilege to travel to Joplin, Missouri to help them recover from the tornado that happened thirteen months ago. The physical labor was exhausting, hot, I have a horrible farmers tan, but this week is always the week of my summer that seems the most memorable and certainly the most rewarding. Helping others has been a large part of my life for a long time, and growing closer to my church family is always a benefit. I don't often talk about my religion, but when I do, I do so with passion.
Then, shortly after I came back, I had two evenings filled with theater people whom I miss and love. It was such a relief to see them all again, and they made me laugh without end. I always adore their ability to make me smile and forget about the less-desirable aspects of my life.
The one person I missed is the one person most likely reading this post. His nocturnal schedule and insight are compatible with mine, and I always benefit from us spending time together. And to you, C, I hope you make the mistake you're hesitant of making. Live a little. It may be a mistake, but frequent errors prevent people from expecting perfection of you. Trust me, I know. Besides, is it a mistake if it never leaves the circle of people closest to you? Don't confuse mistakes with learning. You have to cross the line just to remember where it lays.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Loneliness
I don't think I've ever felt this alone in my entire life.
I thought the transition period was bad before? Now it's even worse. I don't want to leave, because there's so much left unsaid, undone, and unaccounted for. I don't want to stay, because then I'll get more attached to the things that I won't have in two months. I do, however, have some very distinct urges.
I want to paint. I want to paint something, last summer was great because it allowed me to paint my room. Well, my room's painted and now I'm shit out of luck.
I want to go sit on the roof and look at the wide open sky. Oddly, that's comforting to me. It's less suffocating.
I want to cry. Goodness, I want to cry.
I want to tell everyone what I really think about them. I want there to be no things that I'm too embarrassed to admit to, and I don't want this sickening feeling that I'm replaceable, because I am. I find myself in situations that involve groups or subsets of my supposed friends, and realize that the summer could very well go on without me even being here at all. I'm replaceable, forgettable. And that's what's happening- I'm being replaced and forgotten.
I want to blog, all day, every day.
I want to come to terms with all that I've been repressing. I don't know how to come out and say this directly, but I wish I could. I need to be...well, be me... without worrying what anyone will think of me. And I don't know how to do that. Hopefully I will in California.
That's the other thing. Part of me can't wait to get out there and start doing whatever it is that I'll be doing. But part of me doesn't want to leave. At all. Ah well.
For goodness sake, I'm listening to "The Script Radio" on Pandora. I'm clearly in a very blue state of mind.
I thought the transition period was bad before? Now it's even worse. I don't want to leave, because there's so much left unsaid, undone, and unaccounted for. I don't want to stay, because then I'll get more attached to the things that I won't have in two months. I do, however, have some very distinct urges.
I want to paint. I want to paint something, last summer was great because it allowed me to paint my room. Well, my room's painted and now I'm shit out of luck.
I want to go sit on the roof and look at the wide open sky. Oddly, that's comforting to me. It's less suffocating.
I want to cry. Goodness, I want to cry.
I want to tell everyone what I really think about them. I want there to be no things that I'm too embarrassed to admit to, and I don't want this sickening feeling that I'm replaceable, because I am. I find myself in situations that involve groups or subsets of my supposed friends, and realize that the summer could very well go on without me even being here at all. I'm replaceable, forgettable. And that's what's happening- I'm being replaced and forgotten.
I want to blog, all day, every day.
I want to come to terms with all that I've been repressing. I don't know how to come out and say this directly, but I wish I could. I need to be...well, be me... without worrying what anyone will think of me. And I don't know how to do that. Hopefully I will in California.
That's the other thing. Part of me can't wait to get out there and start doing whatever it is that I'll be doing. But part of me doesn't want to leave. At all. Ah well.
For goodness sake, I'm listening to "The Script Radio" on Pandora. I'm clearly in a very blue state of mind.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
"Hey it was nice seeing you tonight (though brief). We should hang out soon, and by hang out, I mean party."
4:09 a.m. is a good time to be receiving that text message. Simple, straightforward, but with one single text, my morals have flipped.
No judgement, it's early in the morning. But let's entertain this possibility.
Not only am I in a program where I have to support being drug and alcohol free (which absolutely, 100% prevents me from partying), I really have no intention of losing control. I would totally go party with this individual, were it not prohibited for me, and check out the scene, while not drinking. Just because I don't want to lose control doesn't mean that others might not, and that could potentially be a really good time for me. If I knew for a fact nobody would find out, I would go. That says something about my inner morals. Deep down, I just want to do what I want and have a good time. Call this my rebellious age. Fuck it.
Another thing that screams bad news about this situation is the particular individual from who I received the text. He and I had a flirtation going on Sophomore year, and we almost hooked up that winter break. We didn't, but he made no secret that he found me attractive, and let's face it, I'd hook up with him. Absolutely. And if he'd be drunk, then he would definitely try to hook up with me. But I have a boyfriend.
So besides the fact that I can't be at parties because of this volunteer thing I do, I shouldn't party with him because we might end up hooking up and I have a boyfriend, and I would never want it to get out that I was partying with him and his friends, I REALLY want to go party with him.
I know exactly why, too. It's the thrill of it. It's because, instead of sitting at home at 4 a.m. playing League of Legends with my boyfriend, who's a superdork, I'd be out with a group of people that are pretty fucking cool, underneath their douchey party image. It's the intrigue, the adventure, the unknown.
I've known these people since the fifth grade, and they're just as nerdy and smart as me, but they somehow worked past that and are now out having a good time. There's a group of them that were in PI plus with me, which was the gifted program from 4th-8th grade. All great, great kids.
I'll let you know what the deal becomes. I'm not sure where I stand on all of this.
No judgement, it's early in the morning. But let's entertain this possibility.
Not only am I in a program where I have to support being drug and alcohol free (which absolutely, 100% prevents me from partying), I really have no intention of losing control. I would totally go party with this individual, were it not prohibited for me, and check out the scene, while not drinking. Just because I don't want to lose control doesn't mean that others might not, and that could potentially be a really good time for me. If I knew for a fact nobody would find out, I would go. That says something about my inner morals. Deep down, I just want to do what I want and have a good time. Call this my rebellious age. Fuck it.
Another thing that screams bad news about this situation is the particular individual from who I received the text. He and I had a flirtation going on Sophomore year, and we almost hooked up that winter break. We didn't, but he made no secret that he found me attractive, and let's face it, I'd hook up with him. Absolutely. And if he'd be drunk, then he would definitely try to hook up with me. But I have a boyfriend.
So besides the fact that I can't be at parties because of this volunteer thing I do, I shouldn't party with him because we might end up hooking up and I have a boyfriend, and I would never want it to get out that I was partying with him and his friends, I REALLY want to go party with him.
I know exactly why, too. It's the thrill of it. It's because, instead of sitting at home at 4 a.m. playing League of Legends with my boyfriend, who's a superdork, I'd be out with a group of people that are pretty fucking cool, underneath their douchey party image. It's the intrigue, the adventure, the unknown.
I've known these people since the fifth grade, and they're just as nerdy and smart as me, but they somehow worked past that and are now out having a good time. There's a group of them that were in PI plus with me, which was the gifted program from 4th-8th grade. All great, great kids.
I'll let you know what the deal becomes. I'm not sure where I stand on all of this.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Prescriptions
Now, this is really embarrassing. Please don't judge me.
Today, I went to a podiatrist because I have warts on my feet, and I learned several things, both about warts and about podiatrists. Let me explain.
For one, a quick look to the wall on the right of the exam room showed me that an official title of a member of the American Center for Foot and Podiatry Doctors (or some other longass acronym like that) is a Fellow. Congratulations, you're a Fellow. I thought that was amusing.
Also, I learned that you're more susceptible to warts when you're stressed, and tired, and sick. Good thing I'm ALL of those, all the time. Fuck.
I learned that prescribing ulcer medication helps warts, because the T antibodies are the same in ulcer repulsion as wart repulsion. Believe me, my parents were confused as hell when I told them I needed to be on ulcer medication, but I guess it works.
Also, I was prescribed medication from a pharmacy that mixes their own drugs, which the doctor assured me were "all legal, of course." Hmm....
For the final thing, he prescribed me a PedEgg. Yep, those things on the infomercials? I now have one. And TRUST ME when I tell you that cheese-grating the bottom of your foot is a little bit scary. A lot bit scary. I bled. Only one time, and I bleed all the time, but still. You're GRATING your fucking foot. It's not as easy as they make it look on TV.
The doctor confuses me. What would compel someone to want to look at feet all day?
Today, I went to a podiatrist because I have warts on my feet, and I learned several things, both about warts and about podiatrists. Let me explain.
For one, a quick look to the wall on the right of the exam room showed me that an official title of a member of the American Center for Foot and Podiatry Doctors (or some other longass acronym like that) is a Fellow. Congratulations, you're a Fellow. I thought that was amusing.
Also, I learned that you're more susceptible to warts when you're stressed, and tired, and sick. Good thing I'm ALL of those, all the time. Fuck.
I learned that prescribing ulcer medication helps warts, because the T antibodies are the same in ulcer repulsion as wart repulsion. Believe me, my parents were confused as hell when I told them I needed to be on ulcer medication, but I guess it works.
Also, I was prescribed medication from a pharmacy that mixes their own drugs, which the doctor assured me were "all legal, of course." Hmm....
For the final thing, he prescribed me a PedEgg. Yep, those things on the infomercials? I now have one. And TRUST ME when I tell you that cheese-grating the bottom of your foot is a little bit scary. A lot bit scary. I bled. Only one time, and I bleed all the time, but still. You're GRATING your fucking foot. It's not as easy as they make it look on TV.
The doctor confuses me. What would compel someone to want to look at feet all day?
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