Wednesday, October 28, 2009
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.
Monday, October 5, 2009
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
