Stereotypical Blog About How Much I Hate Valentine's Day

Just kidding, the title is misleading. I'm actually not the hugest fan of this Hallmark-created "holiday" for various reasons, but that's not what I'm going to talk about. You've all heard the anti-Valentine's Day story before, so there's no reason there should be another blog to berate it.

I always prided myself on how independent I was. I told myself that I wasn't worried about having a boyfriend, but at the same time, there was always a guy on my mind. And you know what? It never worked out with that guy, and I used to do stupid little things to get a guy's attention, like pretend I like some weird-o band that he likes. (Sometimes it worked out well - a la The Decemberists - and sometimes it didn't - Sunset Rubdown.... huh?!)

I just decided that I'm not going to worry about it anymore. I'm young, and I don't need the stress of who likes me and who doesn't. I have the rest of my life to date, so I'm just going to take the time to be Amanda. No worrying about boys or dates or blah blah blah. This may change tomorrow, but this is what I'm doing now.

ANYWAY,

I just got back from my "date" with my roommate. We got crepes. It was awesome. So to everyone else out there - in a relationship or not - have a great Valentine's Day, and have a good time spreading the love around.

Stephanie Meyer: I have a bloody fang to pick with you

Dear Stephanie Meyer,

I want to tell you something: I really, really, really, really do not like you. My dislike sits on the brink of loathing. That’s right – I just said loathing. In case your insipid mind cannot grasp the concept of a word that is more than six letters, it means that I hate you.

Why, you ask, as you scratch the top of your head with a confused and disgruntled expression on your face?

Look no further than to the very series of books you have penned.

I’m talking about the Twilight saga.

To put it nicely, it’s the bane of my existence.

However, I am one of about 67 people in the entire universe who feel this way, as the series of books has received a serious amount of attention and, worse, a committed, loyal, bat-shit crazy fan base (often referred to as Twihards because, yes, they are that hardcore). These Edward Cullen aficionados practically WORSHIP the saga, and all of the movies, actors, clothing lines and jewelry lines that have been born from the series.

I know what you’re thinking – I’m just one of those bitter nonconformists hating the popular series merely because it’s popular. I’m not. I actually have valid reasons why this series gets under my skin. I’ve done my research – yes, I’ve actually read all four “novels” and have even seen the multi-million dollar grossing film – because my curiosity got the best of me. And, hey, if I’m going to hate something, I would rather make an informed decision about my hatred than just go about being ignorant.

So, don’t worry. I’m not just going to tell you that I hate you; I’m also going to give you reasons why I feel this way and subsequently harm you to a higher degree via the English language.

First and foremost, the grammar is just atrocious. Have you ever attended college? Or what about high school, for that matter? It doesn’t appear so, as the sentence structure is that of a third grader. Maybe this is your editors’ fault – as this type of thing should be fixed PRIOR to the book being published. But hey, we can’t place all of the blame on them! It is quite possible that they clearly became brain dead while reading the trash you gave them and just signed off on the whole thing in a confused stupor. I understand that the book was intended for pre-teens but when was the last time you conversed with one? They have a pretty good understanding of the English language at that point in their lives. I’m not saying that your style of writing should be that of James Joyce, but you probably do not know who he is anyway.

Now let’s just pause for a minute and talk about the “heroine” of your tale, Bella Swan. With my feministic values aside, Bella Swan is one of the most incorrigible, annoying and pathetic characters in the entire world. You say that you want Bella to be a role model for young girls – yet what message are you sending? Throughout the first, second, third and fourth book, Bella repeatedly protests that she is not worthy of Edward’s love and affection. When he leaves her in the second novel, she breaks down, becomes severely depressed and acts outlandishly stupid in order to see visions of him. Bella’s entire world is Edward and she actually cannot exist without him. You are telling girls everywhere that it is OKAY to act in this manner. You are exclaiming that it is fine to not feel worthy enough for a guy, and to cease living if he ever leaves. It’s actually nausea-inducing to hear these words come out of Bella’s mouth (and your brain). Women have fought for years to be equals, to have the same choices as men, to be strong and independent! And here you are, allowing a new generation to feel that it is acceptable to do exactly the opposite.

(If you want to hear some more feminist views on Twilight, read this article: http://www.msmagazine.com/Fall2009/newmoon.asp)

Here’s another thing: your chosen characteristics of vampires do not really work well. According to you, they can live during the day (only if it’s cloudy though, otherwise they glitter like My Little Ponies), are SUPER SUPER strong, are SUPER SUPER fast and have poisonous venom that kills you when it enters a human’s bloodstream. Also, most vampire clans are not fuzzy bunnies like the Cullens; rather, they kill and mutilate humans. In short, these vamps are virtually indestructible. Okay….. so, if they can do all this, why do any humans exist at all? Why don’t the human characters in Twilight live in fear of being brutally murdered by these supernatural beings? Oh, silly me, I forgot – they have a government system! Right, right, makes sense.

Finally, no one cares that you’re Mormon, so stop filling every spare second with the “I’m Worth Waiting For” campaign. No one’s listening. Seriously - do they pay you or something?

Thank you for your time, and I hope that your hands fall off and you become mute; therefore, you have no way of transcribing another piece of writing. Ever. Again.

Sincerely yours,

That girl consistently slashing your tires

Lifted spirits.

"Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don't shoot their husbands. They just don't!"

Lately I've been going for walks through the woods/the gym when it's cold and creepy outside. The gym kind of sucks. Even though I read an entire Shakespeare comedy, I get pretty bored just looking at the same 90lb girls run around the track for an hour while I trudge away on the mechanical bike. I do it regardless because I'm trying this "healthy" thing. We'll see how long it lasts.

ANYWAY,

I really do enjoy taking walks outside. I have this same route that I go - a trail behind campus - but I see something different every time. In the gym, I feel almost pressured and too focused on the task at end (you won't believe how hard it is to thoroughly read Shakespeare while riding a fake bike) but outside, my thoughts are endless. It's relaxing, and I get to clear my head of all the bullshit. And Elle Woods was right - it really does make me happier! These past two weeks(ish) I've found myself in a weird, moody slump and getting out into the "wilderness" really helped to lift my spirits.

So, weather get nicer! God dammit.

"Desires and Melodies"

"Follow these instructions

Do exactly as I do
Lean your shoulders forward
Let your hands slide over to my side
Move your body closer
Let your heart meet mine

Love is the harmony
Desire is the key
Love is the melody
Now sing it with me

Come a little closer
Take a look at me
This light is so obvious
I want you to see
Come a little closer
Look me in the eye
Then repeat with me one more time

Love is the harmony
Desire is the key
Love is a symphony
Now play it with me

Love is the harmony
Desire is the key
Love is a symphony
Now play it with me

You'll be the rythm and I'll be the beat
You'll be the rythm and I'll be the beat
Then I'll be the rythm and you'll be the beat
And love, the shoreline, where you and I meet

Love is the harmony
Desire is the key
Love is a symphony

Come sing some with me"

-

Lykke Li

Sup 2010.

Ah, finally, the new year is approaching!

And you know what “they” say: whatever you’re doing at midnight is what you’re going to be doing for the rest of the year!

I told someone that exact sentiment, and they retorted with, “That’s not true.” Oh really, my friend? How about this then? I spent New Year’s 2009 with my head in the toilet, violently vomiting for about nine whole hours into the brand new year. My 2009 turned out to be – overall – fairly shitty. So suck on that logic.

Every blog post about the new year goes like this: 2010 is going to be different! I resolve to do this, this and this! And I’m going to do it all too! Everything is going to change, starting at midnight! Woo! Yeah! Awesome!

Everyone places such a huge emphasis on New Year’s Eve: what their plans are, who they’re going to spend it with, what’s going to be different for them. Inevitably, we’re all let down. Some of us are let down at the actual New Year’s party we’re attending – either by vomiting or by not being kissed by the one we want. Others aren’t let down until towards the end of the year when they realized that they didn’t keep their resolutions – like to stop drinking tequila because it leads to bad choices… oops – or the year just didn’t live up to their unattainable, magical standards of what the year should have been.

This year is going to be different, I s’pose. First of all, I’m NOT drinking myself into oblivion this year. I didn’t even make it to see the ball drop last year, and that’s just sad. Secondly, I’m not making resolutions that I most likely will not keep. Making a list of goals doesn’t make me feel motivated; instead, I feel pressured. It’s hard to focus on things that matter when you have some list on the back of your mind of what you have to do by the year’s end. Third, I’m not going to have any expectations. Instead of trying to sort out what the year SHOULD be like, I’m going to just live – take things as they come and cross bridges when need be. I’m going to focus on just being positive even in some tough situations.

Whatever you plan on doing for the festivities, remember to be safe and don’t be an idiot by drinking and driving. Have fun, and have a Happy New Year :)

"My, how young you look!"

Today I was getting my eyebrows done (so I could finally feel like a woman again, and not have to style my bangs so they cover half my face), when the eyebrow-lady (do they have a specific name?) goes, "You're in college?! You look too young to be in college!" After she found out I was indeed in college, she then insisted that I MUST be a freshmen. When I corrected her, she says, "Oh, you just look so young! You must get that all the time." No, not really.

Since when do people of our parents' generation think it's okay to say that a 19-year-old girl looks "young"? It's not a compliment! It's an insult. Saying "You look so young!" may as well be translating into saying "Awww, look at the widdle baby! Who's a cute widdle baby? WHO'S A CUTE WIDDLE BABY?" in a nauseating baby voice.

I'm almost 20 years old. A legal adult! I can drive a car, vote and go to war! If anything, I want to look older! Specifically closer to the 21 area, so no one will card me or hassle me at bars. Saying a 19-year-old is young-looking is like saying at 45-year-old is an old sack of shit.

So, seriously, brighten my day. Say that I look like I'm 23 and from South Carolina.

---

On another note, it is now technically Christmas Eve. I truly hope you have a wonderful holiday. I know I won't, but I'm used to it. If you hate the holidays as much as I do, just bear with it and know that I'm right there with ya. Anyway, Merry Christmas, yadda yadda yadda.

I'm tired of finals, so what's up Blogger.

A lot of people are finished with finals by now, but not I. I'll be at Loyola until Saturday. Oddly enough, I can't concentrate on the three papers that I have to write, and I am spending much more of my time staring out the window into space, because that's more entertaining than studying.

Anyway,

a while ago, I was meeting someone for the first time, and we were going through the typical banter of where I'm from, where I live and what year I am. When I replied sophomore, the kid said, "Seriously? I don't ever remember seeing you around on campus last year." I make some awkward response saying that I was, in fact, around, but as I'm thinking about it now, I'm sure he did see me on campus, or what was left of me. I was probably a broken girl when he saw me, and I wouldn't be surprised or offended if he just looked right past me. Who I am today is not who I was during my freshmen year at Loyola or prior to that. I probably wouldn't have wanted this guy to meet me last year.

My freshmen year of high school I was also broken. Pissed off at my mom, my "friends" from grade school and mostly myself, I was nervous and self-conscious, worried about repeating what I deemed some of the worst years of my life (in retrospect, not that bad). That didn't really last long. Anyone who knows me knows that I fell into the greatest group of individuals whom I would later call my best friends. We're obnoxiously perfect for one another, even though we're all a bit different. We fit, somehow, and have managed to make it through some rough times all while maintaining an incredibly strong bond. I love these girls with everything I have in me. They saved me, in a sense, from what I don't know, but that doesn't matter. With them, I didn't have to worry about what I said or did. They've always accepted me for who I was so I became a stronger person for that.

That's why I was so surprised and angry with myself for the way that I behaved during my freshmen year in college. People always told me what a strong person they thought I was and, here I was, throwing out most of the ideals and beliefs I had held onto for so long in a such a short period of time. Life gave me a test; I got an F. I'm not proud of a lot of things that I did, and a lot of things that happened I'm still not really comfortable confronting. I buckled under pressure, apparently forgot that the word "no" existed and got entirely too caught in the whole college experience. I was incredibly unhappy, but I wasn't doing anything to help myself; instead, I was just sitting there and making it worse. I was a doormat. I gradually became a shell of who I was. Empty.

This year I'm starting to regain who I am. I've been doing things when I wanted to do them and I've been caring less about some other people's opinions of me. I have a radio show with someone who I can call one of my best friends (and I hope she shares the sentiment) and I live with an entertaining group of girls who never cease to keep me laughing.

Sometimes I still get lonely. Sometimes I still feel as if I have no one that I can really trust. Sometimes I'm really unhappy that I'm here. But I am here, I plan on staying here and I want to make the best of it while I'm here. I'm not just going to sit around and let everyday pass me by. I'm standing up for myself and, you know what, I am happier even amidst a heavy workload. I'm not ashamed of anything I've done this semester thus far. And that's something I can feel really good at.

And right now, I'm going to watch True Blood before I write my essays because, well, I damn well feel like it.

Good luck on the rest of your finals, everyone. And if you're already home, then fuck you, I hate you (just kidding - my envy is clouding my ability to be nice haha).