I did this whole “30 day challenge” nonsense to make myself get into the habit of writing everyday. I’ve been writing more even when it wasn’t related to this whole 30 Day Challenge, which was the end goal in all of this. Look for more long-winded dither-spells from me. And perhaps elsewhere too, if I ever get the courage to submit any of my writing…
Click here to see all of the posts from the 30 Day Challenge.
I did not have it together this morning to take one with my computer that I would be willing to put on the internet, so here’s an old one of me at my friend’s bachelorette party.
I used to wish for things at 11:11 when I was a teenager. Now I’m just too cynnical (how depressing) (yet realistic). It was fun to wish for things, but I always knew they would never come true. The last time I wished for something at 11:11 was on November 11, 2011. It was 11/11/11, the ultimate 11:11 wish, so I thought “why not?” I honestly can’t even remember what I wished for. I’m guessing something really dumb.
Sidenote: how many couples that got married on 11/11/11 do you think have gotten or will get divorced? I hope that if there is a couple out there that is on the fence about breaking up, they wait until 12/12/12 just for the fucking story. That would be the only couple married on 11/11/11 that I think I would actually like. “Yeah, we rushed into a marriage because we wanted to get married on 11/11/11. Were we ready? No, not at all. But when 11/11/11 is right around the corner, you just have to go for it— #YOLO. (because anyone that gets married on 11/11/11 would be one of those YOLO assholes) Our marriage started to crumble around August of the following year, but we held it together for 12/12/12. Why not take this gimmick full circle, you know?”
Sadly, anyone that got married on 11/11/11 is probably not clever enough for that. I can dream right? No, but now I know what I can wish for on 11:11…
Babies and puppies.
Babies + Puppies = Ovary Explosion.
I can’t help it.
Plain with an amazing personality.
Beauty is fleeting. And subjective.
See Day 17. That’s pretty much always on my mind. Along with should I go to grad school? What would I study? Should I move to New York? Why would I do that if I would be doing the same thing there as in DC? Should I just say “fuck it” and do something drastic? All of that with a dash of Why do some (not all, thank god) of my family and friends make me feel so inferior because I haven’t “settled down and gotten married?” Or have a boyfriend? Why do they put so much emphasis on that? Why do they think I am incomplete without a boyfriend/husband? Do they really think I am less of a person because I don’t have a boyfriend/husband? Why do I let that bother me so much? Yeah… being in my head is so much fun.
When I’m not all doom and gloom my thoughts are mainly about music, sports, fashion, make-up, books, sex, and general tom-foolery.
Now when I see you or hear your name, my skin crawls. Instead of being angry at you for being a complete fucking asshole, I’m mad at myself for being so fucking stupid and naïve. I would always defend your actions to others because I knew somewhere beneath the epic-ton of douchebaggery there was a good friend. I knew it was there because that’s the person I used to be friends with— the funny-yet-flawed guy that seemed to understand me in a way no one else could. It turns out that I should never doubt my instincts about people, their motives, or their intentions. My instincts are always right.
It was a slow burn. You gradually changed over the years. I can’t even begin to tell you how angry it makes me that I was right. I really thought you would be the one person I was wrong about. I wanted nothing more than to be wrong about you. Our friends have said some terrible things about you. I thought I could show them that you are capable of being a decent friend. You’re not capable of much, except being selfish and manipulative.
I really tried to be your friend because you need it. You really do. You don’t realize it. Maybe you will one day but I doubt it. God help you if that day comes because I really wouldn’t be surprised if you eventually have no one around who genuinely cares about you. I just can’t keep trying to be your friend- especially when it is so painfully obvious that you never gave a shit about me. Maybe you did at one time, but I find that hard to believe. You’re really great at pretending though, so bravo. I’m sure that’s what keeps so many of your friends around for now.
Enjoy the rest of your miserable life you piece of shit.
A black dress from H&M. And look, I kind of made my bed.
Is this what a guy does that turns me on? Or is this what qualities in a guy that turns me on? I’m going to go with the first since the second is basically “breathing.”
Turn ons: kissing on the neck, kissing on the ears, blowing on the ears (really anything in the neck and ear region)
Turn offs: Cigarette breath (I just can’t. Even if I’m drunk it’s just so gross smelling/tasting), talking too much, bad kissing aka assault with a deadly tongue, and socks in bed. The socks thing- I’m sorry, but you look fucking ridiculous if you’re naked except for socks. It’s stupid of me, I know, but until those business socks come off I just can’t focus on anything else except how ridiculous you look.
A lot. This year I’ve seen Justice, The Avett Brothers, numerous acts at Hangout Festival (Jack White was the highlight for sure. Also, Wilco and being front row for Kaskade… and more but I’ll spare you), Radiohead, Modest Mouse, even more bands at Governor’s Ball (both days, pretty much all good) and later this year I’ll be going to Animal Collective. I’m sure that won’t be the last of it for 2012 either.
Well, a former flame got me into Game of Thrones right as the first season was ending. I binged-watched the entire first season just in time to catch the season 1 finale. After that for a week straight I could only talk to him about Game of Thrones. (“Hey sex is cool and all, but let’s talk about the fucking dragons.”) I’m sure I drove him crazy, but I had missed out on everything and wanted to catch up.
I am older and I don’t know. You know when you were a teenager and mapping out your dream life? Not one aspect of my life is what I thought it would be when I was trying to think 5, 10, 15 years ahead as a teenager. This is why the question “Where do you see yourself in 5-10 years?” makes me so angry. I DON’T KNOW! If I knew, I would be doing it. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. Even when I think I do, I get there and it turns out that it never is what I want. I can’t even trust my instincts anymore. I just know what I’m doing right now isn’t terrible, pays well, and provides health insurance. I know I shouldn’t complain. Except that deep down I am very unhappy. What makes me even more unhappy is I don’t know what I want so that I can change the fact I am unhappy. It is such a vicious cycle. It makes me feel like I’m in quicksand- the more you struggle, the faster you sink. While at the same time, years are quickly passing by. I feel like I’m wasting my youth sitting in a cubicle staring into Excel because “it’s not that bad,” when I could be doing something more fulfilling, exciting, and rewarding. If I only I knew what that something was…
HA! Who needs therapy when you can just type all of this shit out on tumblr? Just kidding! I’m going to go back to watching My So-Called Life on Netflix and ugly-crying now…
Tell my family and friends that I love them and then join the party.
(Which sounds so fucking stupid, I know. But if everyone knows the world is ending in 24 hours, can you imagine the chaos?)