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).

Not At All Sarcastic

"Yeah, I guess I got a little tame this year."

"No, you didn't get tame, you got lame."

Thank you for being a wonderful friend, and accepting my choices and decisions along with being courteous when I respectfully decline to get shithoused for no reason at all. Really, couldn't ask for a better friend than you!

It's time to sit down with friends and family, be thankful for what you have in your life that's grand and celebrate a holiday in which pilgrims enjoyed the generosity and hospitality of the natives, who they then slaughtered and put onto crammed reservations.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Being lame... or being myself?

The typical college weekend usually involves a lot of alcohol, maybe some drugs and lot of dignity lost come Sunday morning. I have been victim of this, and I bet that more than half of the college campus can agree with me on this one.

This weekend, I went to see my school's drama, I watched The OC and a couple movies. I worked. I went to bed at a reasonably early time, and woke up at a fairly decent hour. I had the option to go out, but I chose to stay in with my roommates instead, cuddled up on the futon. It was, all in all, a chill weekend, and I'm not terribly upset that I didn't waste money to essentially embarrass myself.

My weekend could be called, by those who spent hours on York Rd, "lame".

Was it really, though? Since when do I have to get obnoxiously inebriated in order to have a good weekend? When I was in high school, I went to the mall, saw a movie, spent way too much time at diners, smoked cigars in parks, and went to shows - local or at venues like the Electric Factory. I went to the occasional party and worked quite often. My life wasn't considered lame then, but now there seems to be such a high standard on going out and getting drunk at every possible opportunity. (It's funny how this is seen as normal behavior for college students, but a disease, namely alcoholism, for those who have since graduated and are nearing their 30s.) According to this societal norm, regardless of whether you actually want to go out, you have to go out.

You know what?

Fuck you guys. I'm not lame, and my weekend was pretty respectable. I had a good time fucking around with some friends, playing with a new camera, and watching two movies in a row featuring Zac Efron. There's nothing wrong with going out, because I do find enjoyment in drinking and dancing in Baltimore's finest establishments, but can't we all take a break? Why does the weekend's value depend on cab rides and dollar beers? It's actually quite nice to stay in, and - I don't know - relax, enjoy the silence and share some laughs over the trivial things in life.

(Just an idea.)

Words of wisdom from a fictional drug addicted prostitute from the 70s.

"I mean, they don't even know what it is to be a fan. You know, to truly love some silly little piece of music, or some band, so much that it... hurts."

- Almost Famous

(Not) Spreading Some Holiday Cheer

It's that time of the year again. Some may call it the most wonderful time of the year. I, however, am here to be the obligatory Scrooge because, yes, I hate the holidays. Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Years. I don't find this time of year cheery. I get annoyed at the radio stations that start playing holiday-themed music once November 1st arrives. I don't feel all warm and fuzzy inside when I see candles in the window, snow on the ground and wreaths hung in the doorways. It sickens me to hear people babble on about how excited they are for Christmas and spending time with family; I am the antithesis of excited.

I wasn't always this way - when I was younger, Christmas was magical. The little things excited me, like playing Sega Genesis or Mario Kart with cousins that I rarely saw or the prospect of Santy Claus dropping off new clothes, a Barbie cruise ship or an American Girl doll. My mom even made gourmet breakfast - pancakes, eggs, Canadian bacon, french toast, the whole nine yards - which never happened.

But I was young, stupid and too naive to see what really happens on the holidays. First, Santa Claus is a big, fat lie and even if it was true, it's a fucked up scenario. A fat dude breaks into your house, thieves your cookies and milk and leaves gifts that he probably stole off the back of a truck (elves my ass). Second, you know those family members you never see? There was a reason - they're all assholes. Remember that time your uncle cried on Christmas Day because he was "so happy to see us"? He was high - that's why he never called and we don't talk to him anymore.

Since the end of my childhood, which occurred at the tender age of 11, the holiday season has been filled with nothing but cancer, family feuds, stress about money, death and an overall increased recognition of how much the world sucks. My parents always try to make it like the magical ordeal it once was (my mom still makes breakfast), there's no covering up the underlying truth which is that the holidays are just a remembrance of lost family members, increasing financial problems and are just a lead-up to a huge letdown.

So excuse me while I don't join in on the eighteenth chorus of Deck The Halls.

Amanda has... angst?

I re-stumbled upon my xanga, which I kept up pretty much until the end of senior summer. Who knew my wee body could fit so much angst! Most of it is embarrassing, but these two struck me (even today):

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

"Inside my head"

Sometimes I worry and sometimes I get anxious, and then angry and pissed off and the next second content and happy and I worry a little more because there are so many things to worry about like donuts and blowing out tires and irrational people and pimples and there are things that are out of my control and a lot of the time images just flash in my head like speeding cars and I'm running, I'm always running, haven't you noticed that I'm always running and it's you, you freak me out, if I don't hear from you I freak and I don't have a hold, but I just want you to like me because I thought you were more into me than I was into you but maybe not anymore and I really hate that some people don't know the differences between 'than' and 'then' and I know some people read this and are probably freaked out and I wonder how many people I freak out, you know, and then I wonder if I care because one second I do and the next it's like fuck it and I never do my homework, I'm always so tired, sometimes it's hard to stand on my own two feet and sometimes I can't stand you and that's a lie, I can never not stand you, I say things I don't mean in the heat of the moment, it's just sometimes you need to learn to chill and not act like a hot piece of shit, and I'm worried about college and I'm going to Loyola and then there are images of what I want to do, and my imagination runs wild and I can be having a conversation with someone and in my head but be thinking of an entirely different scenario and sometimes I think I won't make it, but I have to, don't I, doesn't everyone make it somehow in some way and sometimes I wonder if you read this because I used to like you and I care about you in that friend-like way and I want to see if you care too but I doubt you read this because you don't give me the time of day and I've noticed I tend to go for people who don't give me much attention on second glance and I want to fight for it and expunge too much energy and I'm not an idiot and sometimes I say things I regret and sometimes I am self-conscious and sometimes I want to crawl in a hole and not come out and sometimes I want to live on the clouds and escape, I always want to escape because I'm never satiated and I want to read my horoscope and sometimes I'm frustrated but overall I'm glad I'm where I am.

Tuesday, April 03, 2008

My computer is a piece of shit. I don't blame it - it's really old, and me adding 4000+ songs and I'm sure the same amount of high-res pictures doesn't help. I can't complain - I'm going to get a laptop for college anyway.
However, I have this fear that one day my computer is just going to shut down completely inexplicably because it gave up. So now I'm trying to prevent this from happening by deleting unnecessary files and programs from my computer. It was hard, but I went through my music collection and deleted some stuff that I never listen to/really do not enjoy. It was really painful - I kept thinking that someday I would need this music and when the occasion came, I would be terribly sorry that I had deleted this certain artist. But I did delete about 2 or 3 albums, which did absolutely nothing to help the condition of my aging computer.
So, I went to my picture files. (I'm getting to the point). You know, as a freshmen and/or sophomore, I would take a shit load of pictures just so I could say I took pictures. Some pictures were pointless (like of a carpet or something), or some were so blurry that you couldn't really see the person. Some were just plain embarrassing (for me and for others too) and they were eradicated so no one could lay eyes on them again. So I went through the arduous task of going through almost every picture in order to sift through those I don't need in order to prevent the death of my dear Dell.
I'm in a random album (actually titled 'Random'). And there are only four pictures in it. I delete one particularly ferocious looking one and skip to the next. It's a picture of a friend sitting on a couch. She doesn't look too pleased, and at closer look, one can see the pain and confusion in her eyes. At the time, everything outwardly appeared great, and if she did look semi-upset in the picture, one could argue was that I caught her off-guard.
I decide that I hate this picture. I hate this picture because the day said picture was taken I could not ever imagine what was going on in my friend's head. I was trying to figure out my own fucked-up self and was wallowing in my own self-hate. This picture actually makes me enraged. I only wish that I could have snapped out of it long enough to save someone. This picture reminds me that I was too much of idiot to see something I would find out 6 months later (more or less.. six just seemed like a good enough number). I know I'm not to blame, but I feel as if I did nothing to prevent ('prevent' must be the word of this entry..) the harm caused to my friend, my best friend.
I wanted to delete this picture, because it made me sick - not because of the way the person looked, but because of the negative connotations it held - but for some inexplicable reason, I didn't.

I went to the next one, and so my cleaning process continues.

Thursday 10/15/09 6:56 PM, written on a blank sheet at the back of a Dickens novel

Dark, miserable and grounded, waiting to get out of this place. Sometimes it seems as if the sun will never shine again and everything good and jolly has deserted you. And you're going up, searching for that sunlight, yet it still pours like it'll never stop. And suddenly! it's white all around - something is so heavenly about this place. You're soaring, keep soaring upward until the sun shines through, illuminating every facet that it touches and it's just so beautiful and it is almost as if the rain was never there.

Mon. Oct 5, 2009 1:14 AM

When I was in high school, I had certain expectations for love. It would all be romantic. There would be flirting, coy smiles. I would get random text messages throughout the day, and risk detention by texting back during school hours. It would all be very cute. It might even be turned into a Dreamworks romantic teen comedy.

Flash forward two years, and I’m making out with some dude in my English class who I’ve talked to, like, once in the middle of some shitty bar where some idiotic, overpaid rapper says shit like, “You da, you da best” about 51 times in a single piece of three-minute music.

What the hell is going on? I use to have expectations! I use to have morals! Granted, I’m not doing anything else with this kid except giving him a little bit of my dignity, but still! I never thought I’d be one of “those girls.” Those random hook-up girls. Those girls at LaSalle mixers who would make rounds with the horny-I-spend-all-my-days-with-guys-because-I-go-to-an-all-male-school boys. Those girls everyone would talk about come Monday morning. And now – now look at me! I AM THAT GIRL. SHIT.

What has Loyola done to me? Or maybe the question really is – what have I done to myself? Have I been jaded so many times by men in the past that now I’m really willing to throw away everything I once use to stand by? Have I really just succumbed to the pressure of fulfilling a “quota”? Did I really justify my actions with the phrase, “It’s college!”?

Fuck this. I’m not doing it anymore. I don’t care that it suddenly became acceptable to shove your tongue down every single person you meet’s throat. “Hey it’s nice to meet you – hey, feel my tongue ring in your mouth!” NO. NOT OKAY.

I’m not doing the whole “random hook-up” thing anymore. If I find someone worth my time, then they should be able to see me on the quad and not feel awkward about it. Hell, I want to go on a date. A real date.

You hear that rando dude at Swallows, who's wearing a lax pinny at an inappropriate setting? Try that sloppy girl falling over in that booth across the room, because you won’t be getting it from me until we have a nice, SOBER conversation and decide that we have common interests and the potential of being able to spend some quality time together.

And, honestly, that shouldn't be too much to ask for.

"Iris"

Do you have that one song that brings back a memory so strong it’s like you’re still there? I have a bunch. There are moments in my life that I will never forget, and most of them have their own soundtracks.

So I went to an old friend of mine’s acoustic set at a local coffee shop in Sea Isle. A little back-story for you - this guy and I had some history and it didn’t end well – and by “didn’t end well,” I mean he broke my heart. After a while, I got over him, but he never seemed to do the same. I know this because the same wistful look and shy smile comes across his face every time we bump into each other. So, I’ll be honest – I went to this show because I was bored, yes, but also to see him get that look, because I find a ton of humor in this irony.

So, again, I arrive at the coffee shop before he does, and sit in the far corner, read my book (One Flew Over the Cukoo’s Nest if you really want to know) and enjoy some iced coffee. He arrives not long after I do, and once he finishes setting up, he sees me and – boom! – there it is, that nostalgic look comes over he face as he smiles and gives a little wave.

His set goes fine – he’s actually pretty talented in both singing and guitar playing and every once in a while I get a glance in my direction. Also, half of his family is there as well, and his aunt is completely trashed (I saw her kill an entire bottle of white wine by herself!) which is really just fucking hilarious.

I’m about ready to leave and just as I’m thinking this he starts to play Iris by Goo Goo Dolls. There is no significance with this song for me. I liked it a lot when I was in grade school, but that was pretty much it. He never played it for me before, and we never even discussed the musical stylings of the band ever. But, with this song, memories come flooding back, and I, well, sort of miss him.

I leave shortly thereafter, and the feeling fades.

It was just odd. One song, and every single thing I’ve ever felt concerning him came rushing back. It wasn’t as if I’m still pining for him – whatever we had was over and done with almost two years ago. He has a girlfriend now, and I’m crushing on some dude at school (who thinks I’m a great friend – awesome! But that’s another story..). We’re over, done. But still, for an amount of about three minutes, it was like it was my senior year again, and he was sending me texts telling me how beautiful I was, only to say he doesn’t want to be with me three short days later. It was like I was still at my work telling my coworkers that No, I couldn’t hang out with them this weekend, because I had a date, only to go home that very night to find a message saying that it wouldn’t work out. Then I start thinking about what could have been, and where we would be now.. and I felt a little sad, and a little reminiscent.

It’s almost funny how this popular tune from the 90s could induce so much feeling, but as some dude named E. Y. Harburg** said, “Words make you think a though. Music makes you feel a feeling. A song makes you feel a thought.”

** He’s actually a lyricist, and is most famous for writing “Over the Rainbow” along with the rest of the music for The Wizard of Oz.

Everyone needs a good cry once in a while.

Today I sat in the shower, and I cried. While the hot water rained down on me, I cried. I cried and cried. I cried for all the bad times I had with a particular friend of mine. I cried for all the good times, too, because it makes moving on that much harder. I cried for not knowing what is going to happen in the coming year, and I cried for knowing what did happen in this past year. I cried for a friend who is apparently having a rough time, and I cried for another friend who lost one of her best friends. I kept on crying. I cried for all the mistakes I made, and I cried at the thought of losing one of my best friends. I cried and I cried and I cried.

Then I wiped off my tears, got up, turned off the shower and went on with my life.

Flashbulb Memory: "Me v. Maradona v. Elvis"

I’m in Vistation’s gym, two years after I had tossed my cap in the air and left, because a high school battle of the bands is taking place. Maroon shirt that became well-worn and no longer used, gray shirt with frayed ends that found itself in my college wardrobe. I look at the set list for his band, and say, Can you dedicate a Brand New song to me? They’re my favorite band. Sure, sure. Songs I know and songs I don’t play, until, This one is for you. He sings the words, perfectly, sounds just like Jesse. Let’s go on stage and dance, Alyssa says. We climb on and hippie dance – arms swaying, eyes closed, immersed in some silly piece of music that means more to you than anyone else can ever understand. All during the song, you stare and stare and sing and play guitar and sing. That was when we both fell.

Fulfillment

I guess you could say God has blessed with some gifts, and some curses with one of them being my ability to become terrified in the "love" area. Many a men have passed through my life, and it's true when I say that they have broken my heart more times than I have broken anyone's heart.

A lot of them came and went. I'm sure more will continue to come into my life and continue to exit right out of it. Just a fair few stick in my mind now, as the ones I was so sure I was "in looooove" with are fading faster and faster.

As I sit here, window open, breeze gently blowing my hair into my face, one guy sticks in my mind. It never worked out because some things were never said, when maybe they should have been. What would have happened if I was, for once, honest with myself and with him? What would our friendship be like today? So many "what ifs". So many what could have happened what would have happened where would I be today.

None of that matters now, but sometimes it is nice to wonder.





I will say that I did get fulfillment this year, after all this time.

Don't Knock It

When I was at the tender, tender age of 14 and entering high school, I met a wide variety of people. I met some people who had started drinking at young ages like 12 or 13. I never knew of a world that existed like that. When I was that age, I didn't really have a desire to go out and party. 21 isn't too far away, I figured, and I have plenty of time in the rest of my life to get drunk. However, I still always listened to one girl's drunk stories. I thought 14 and 15 were ages too young to go out and drink, but if that's what she wanted to do, then go for it.

Clearly, the idea of waiting until I was 21 didn't pan out. Like the average teenager, I started drinking, but not until my junior year of high school and I met that "bad crowd" parents were so wary that you would fall into in all those Lifetime movies. It was when I started working at Shannondell that I started going to parties and started drinking. Back then, I was a baby. Two shots and I'm giggling like a buffoon. Ever make fun of a "Two Beer Queer"? That was totally me. I never really did anything too outrageous when drunk (if I even was that), and, for the most part, I was responsible. My drinking habits would peak in my freshmen year of college, and now I see myself as somewhat of an experienced drinker. However, I still don't feel the need to drink with every activity nowadays - I'm extremely against drunk driving, my liver needs a break every once and a while, and, most importantly, I don't need a beer in each hand to kick back and have a good time with my friends.

Some people don't really share my point of view on drinking. I knew these two sisters who, in the early days of their years in high school, were so against teen drinking that they would go so far as to judge those who did do it. This isn't an ABC Family original series - teenagers go to parties, and they drink all the time. Besides being illegal, it's not that big of a deal. Once or twice, I would hear them call someone who enjoys drinking out, and try to make them look like an ass for "drinking too much."

Flash forward just a mere couple of years to me doing some Facebook stalking. I stumble onto these sister's pages, and what do I see? Underage drinking. A lot of it. Aaaaaand they're all bifflez with the girls at the school who are poster girls for Pabst and Natty!!

A change of opinion is not the point here, because clearly I changed mine. But to judge and criticize one party only to join them a few years later? Hello Pot? This is Kettle calling. It just has me bugged that their drastic opinion went the completely opposite way to, as it appears, fit in with a crowd.

Sometimes I just lose faith in our generation.

The Upsides of Mono (Yes, I found some.)

When you have mono, you get pretty damn lethargic, so, naturally, I find myself on Facebook way more than I should. It's Day 2 of me officially having mono, and instead of focusing on the fact that I'll be stuck in my house for the rest of the summer, I decided to blog.

1. It's a virtual no-work-required diet! The loss of appetite is extreme. I've only been able to eat cous cous today, and some mango sorbet. But, hey, who wants to eat when the pain of swallowing is much like the pain of being mauled by baby pandas? I was officially diagnosed with mono yesterday, but I've been battling it since Wednesday, and boy, has this new diet been working! The lack of food has made me weak, plus my clothes are already starting to sag! And JUST in time for swimsuit season! Too bad I'm too weak and diseased to actually go to the beach, but if I were to choose to put on a bathing suit, I would look fantastic!

2. My parents have been coddling me as if I was five years old again. Buying me magazines, making all my favorite foods (even though I only gum at them), taking special requests, etc. Hey, I'm not complaining.

3. You know how you've always wanted to just sit on the couch all day and watch movies/television, but you didn't feel like undergoing scrutiny for being a "lazy piece of shit"? Well, now you can, because one of the side effects of mononucleosis is fatigue! Plus, the doctor says you need to get your rest, so rest up, my friend, rest all you want!

4. You get sympathy from everyone - and I mean, everyone. Family, friends, strangers, all of them, because no one wants to be you (Sorry, it's true).

5. All those little things you had planned to do, but just didn't get to because, well, you had a life? Well, once you have mono, your life is confined to the insides of your house so all those podcasts you subscribed to for absolutely no reason? Now you can sort through them, and delete some of the weirder IndieFeed tracks. I've been updating my music collection, and I'm thinking about learning Italian - for shits and giggles.

6. Remember when you felt obligated to look presentable? Well, say goodbye to all that pesky personal hygiene! I mean, if you're not going to see anyone for a couple of weeks then what's the point of brushing your hair, shaving your legs, showering...

So, this is my life now, but I might as well make the best of it.

Positive Thinking in Summer '09

Every summer breeds a plethora of raging, crazy ideas for what one plans to do for the next 3-4 months.

"I'm going down the shore every weekend!"
"I'm getting fucked-up in every single one of my friend's houses!"
"I'm going to road-trip to see America's largest ball of yarn!"
"I'm scaling the Comcast Building with just a fisherman's hook and mint-flavored floss!"
"I'm going to have a job and make money, because my boss WON'T fuck me over in part due to my loyalty over the past three years of service!"

And, virtually every summer a lot of these expectations aren't fulfilled (Okay, the last one is just me being bitter, and this really isn't a thought that goes through many people's heads). Going down the shore every weekend? Might not work as family and work (if you actually have a job, because your boss didn't give you a lesson in the harsh reality that sometimes in this world, life just isn't fair - still bitter) commitments stand in the way. Getting drunk on all days that end in Y? Your friends, your wallet and your liver may not be able to handle that. Road trips? Gas prices are on the rise, my friends, and since you plan on taking all these road trips and not working, the not-making-any-money factor plus the possible admission prices to cheesy American novelties may come into play. I'm not even going to address the Comcast Building one, because that's just illogical!

The point being: most of us come up with these elaborate plans and end up being terribly let down when they inevitably don't happen. And then, we spend the rest of our spare time complaining how positively HORRIBLE summer and how absolutely BORING it is because we didn't get to grant our heart's every desire. We lament - via Facebook and Twitter, of course, because this is 2009 - how awful the summer of 2009 is.

You know what?

Stop whining.

Yeah, I'm talking to you. Shut up. I don't want to hear it.

So you didn't get to go to raging, backyard parties everyday and drunkenly sing "Never Gonna Give You Up". So you didn't get to travel across the state to see a house built by Frank Lloyd Wright. So you work a lot.

Stop focusing on the negative, and let's take a look at the silver lining.

1. It's July. You have two months left to make the weird dream in the back of your head happen.
2. Did you ever think that all that whining you were doing got in the way of making something good out of the situation? Maybe if you weren't so focused on the negative, you would be able to see the positive.
3. If you work a lot, think about all the booze money you'll have for the school year. Plan something with friends from work, as you all have the mutual hatred of at least one coworker/manager you can bond over. Or if the people you work suck, plan small things to do before or after work with other friends. No one goes to bed early anyway, and never underestimate the good times you can have with your friends simply by grabbing a bite to eat.

Most importantly, you're alive, well and breathing. You don't have the stress of schoolwork or any of those other trivial college things to bring you down. You have spare time to relax and tan. You are able to see your family with whom you're without for eight months, as well as seeing those friends who always said they would visit you during the school year but never did. The ice cream man comes around your neighborhood (that jingle of Pop! Goes the Weasel still perks my ears up). You can catch up on some T.V. you missed out on, or some books you were dying to read. You can take a nice, refreshing walk in the park or you can laze around on the sofa all day.

So stop worrying about fulfilling all of your outrageous summer plans. Relax, take a deep breath and chill out. Isn't that what summer is all about?

Untitled Mon 4/16 1:56 p.m.

It's complicated. It's not easy, and most times it's so hard, you want to quit. Every bone in your body is tired, and every muscle aches. You want to give up. It's so much easier to give up and say to hell with it all. It's easier to go on with a facade.

Hopefully, as you grow, the voice inside you grows, too. And every time you want to give up, it says, "Don't." "You can do this." "You are stronger than this." And hopefully, you listen. Hopefully, you realize that nothing is ever sunshine and daisies. You recognize who you can trust and who will help you make it.

Hopefully, you know that it's going to suck most of the time, and hopefully, you know that it's worth it in the end.