Any Given Tuesday

So, quarter life crises are real things which is super cool and not terrifying at all.

Hahahahaha!

Haha...

Ha.....

*sobs uncontrollably while sitting in the bathtub shoving Oreos down her throat*

But srsly. Why is this such a hard time? I realize due to my circumstances, my 24 year old experience is non traditional, but what is traditional really? Is there a norm for getting through your early twenties and starting your life and not freaking out because the future is mind-blowingly scary? IS THERE? 

                                                                                                                                   (tumblr.com)

I just don't think so. Maybe we feel like there should be one because there's this ridiculous mindset pushed onto us that EVERYONE should go to college, and EVERYONE should finish in 4 years, and EVERYONE should have a 9-5 job, and EVERYONE should hate the aforementioned 9-5 job, but it's unavoidable because that's just what EVERYONE does. Who is this EVERYONE and why they lyin'?

Why? Why do we perpetuate this crap? I don't know two people with the same post high school story. So why in the world do I obsessively stress out about how long it's taking me to get my degree and how old I'll be when I start my career? Why can I not just be content with my life and the progress I'm making?

Love me Tinder

Sometimes I think to myself, "Hey. Let's, like, be responsible, and do things. Like blogging. Or putting on pants."

But then I say, "Um, actually pants sound like a horrible idea, Self. Sooo...I'm gonna need you to stop being ridiculous and bring better ideas to the table."

And thus I never blog or wear pants and it's just a horrible cycle. HELP.

I'm mostly kidding. But less so than may be comfortable or desired.

I have to laugh at myself though, because when I look back at my posts, a lot of them revolve around me having not posted in a while. So, instead of making empty promises, we'll just see if I can blog again in the next 6 months, NSA.

Sooo.
Tinder.
Let's talk about that.

Here's the thing. I'm not sure that I could ever be in any kind of relationship/be married/have kids (do NOT tell my mother that. She wants grandchildren with a passion that rivals none other). But Tinder is super fun, IF you play it like a game.

RULES
1. You must always swipe right on the first person that comes up.
2. You must swipe right for mutual friends.
3. You must swipe right if you know the person.
4. You may swipe right if you find the person attractive in any way (physically, bio, interests, etc.)
5. If you do all the above and are yielding no results, you must abort mission and resort to TOTAL SWIPE MODE (i.e. swipe everyone right)

As a disclaimer, I know that some people are on Tinder looking for "true love" and "meaningful relationships" but that's just no fun. If you are one of those people and you are offended by the way I play Tinder...leave now. Because it's not going to get better. Also, MUY IMPORTANTE. ESCUCHAME POR FAVOR: Don't be stupid. Don't give out personal info, blah blah blah. We're trying to have fun here, not get brutally murdered.

So anyway.

After you get your swipe on, you will probably get some messages. My friend (that we'll call Fiona) and I went out the other night and played Tinder because why not. We had quite a bit of fun with it. For instance, we decided that out of the people that messaged us, one of them we would have to rhyme with. A real example of this would be the following exchange:

Randel (43): How are you?
Me (24): I'm feeling a bit blue.
Randel: Well that's no good. I'm feeling a bit lonely tonight...
Can I help
Me: I'm sorry for your plight.
 ....Whelp...¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Randel (still not getting it): That's the way it goes sometimes. 
Why are you blue?
Me: True, sometimes life is like lemons and limes. 
I have no clue
---
And so on. Sadly, Randel never got it. But it was fun.

Some guys we were super vague with, and some we just adopted entirely different alter egos
(...is that redundant?). The result was hilarity. The various guys were funny, good natured, gross,  bemused, annoyed, etc. But no feelings were hurt in the making of this Tinder Fun Time.

But after all that, after the fun and the excitement of trolling, I realized how nice it is to be desired,

Like, I know I'm not the first person to say this, and it's super obvious. But, I imagine myself never dating, never marrying, and just being solitary. There are probably a million reasons for this and it's probably not healthy, but this is how I've lived and envisioned myself living forever. So to think that it's nice to be desired, is almost counterintuitive to my thought process.

The worst part though was that it was in some way rewarding to be desired (even as superficially as humanly possible because Tinder) by someone that even if I DID decide to not be #foreveralone, I would never consider dating.

....

ISN'T THAT MESSED UP?!

I don't know.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

One Flew Directly into the Cuckoo's Nest

Well, that sure was an inspiring last entry.... *sarcasmsarcasmsarcasm*

Here's the deal: I was in a really bad (apparently also very angsty) spot. For the past year, I've been struggling with more anxiety than usual. I mean, I've always had anxiety issues, but the past year has been pretty bad. I started to experience highs of of anxiety followed by lows of severe depression. I wasn't sleeping, and when I would sleep, I had night terrors. I started sleepwalking (which is apparently very concerning in adults...). I didn't remember going to class. I stopped cleaning my apartment. Basically, my life was falling apart.

The worst part was, I didn't tell anybody. I mean, I would tell people I was having a bad day, that I didn't feel well, that my anxiety was getting the best of me, etc. But I didn't let anyone know how deep my depression was getting.

I've become an expert at the whole "fake it until you make it" thing.

About two months ago though, I started making plans. Plans like, I only need to "make it" until mom's birthday. Plans like, commonly used medications for suicide google search.

I just did not want to exist. I hated me. All of me. Not aspects of my personality. But, who I was at the core of me, I hated that being. I wanted to disappear.

Finally, I went to a school counselor. I figured, I should at least try, right? My mom's birthday is at the end of October. We were at October 15th, and I couldn't see myself making it one more day. I thought that maybe the counselor could keep me alive for a couple more weeks at least.

Long story short, I was placed in a treatment facility because I was danger to myself.

I don't think most rational people ever imagine themselves in this situation. So, I had trouble wrapping my mind around it. I was in a freakin' loony bin! (I have censored my actual thoughts in consideration of anyone who might be reading this)

The first night I cried and worried and cried some more. I wanted to leave. I wanted my mom. I wanted my shoes.

There's no feeling quite like having all of your belongings and your freedom taken from you. It was humbling to say the least. Also, this may be TMI, but Auntie Flo was visiting me that week, sooooo that was super rad.

Anyway.

It sucked. The first few days at least. I thought, why am here with these people? I'm not a drug addict, and I never actually attempted suicide. So what can I possibly learn from them?

The answer was A LOT.

There was such an honesty in the groups about how we were feeling. And no judgement. Just support and advice and life lessons. Once I opened up and let "these people" in, I found out I was in the company of some pretty amazing and resilient folks.  And we became, I believe, lifelong friends.

But, all too quickly, it was time to leave.

When I came back to my clean (because my parents are beautiful people) apartment, things were great! I felt amazing. But then the weekend passed. I had to talk to the university, had to go back to work (although I got a promotion, score!), had to choose what to tell people, had to brace myself for the questions, the judgement, had to....live. And previously, I had not been doing a stellar job of living, so this was troublesome.

Everything was okay, though, until October 30th hit: Mom's birthday. I don't really know how to explain the feeling. But, it was my expiration date. The last day I told myself I had to live through. I didn't sleep. I didn't really move all day. The next was even weirder. I wasn't really supposed to be here. I tried to imagine everything I was living for and could not think of a single thing. I went off my meds for two days. Everything was horrible.

It took some talking with a buddy I met on the inside (of the treatment facility), some inspiring quotes, a work out, talking with friends, a few episodes of Psych, strawberries, calling my mom, and my Grandma's lasagna, but I prevailed.

I'm still here. Which, to you may seem simple and obvious, but to me is monumental.

So, if you somehow stumble upon this rambling blog-like thing and you're struggling with depression, anxiety, or whatever else, please please PLEASE don't be hesitant to let someone you trust know about your feelings. Get the help you deserve and need. Because you are an amazing person. How can I confidently say that? Because I believe we all have the capacity to be amazing people. But, unfortunately, we don't always let ourselves be.

I'm sure there will be more stories later on, definitely more blog posts (I need to at least be accountable to myself), but for now, I have to eat breakfast and carpe this diem.

Ta!

Meaningless, like chasing the wind

Today is a bad day. 

Every piece of me has this dull ache.

I feel like everything I'm doing has become meaningless.

I feel like I am meaningless. 

I just want to disappear. 

Today

Today is the first day in a very long time that I woke up and thought life was worth living.

Today, I didn't hit my snooze when I knew I absolutely had to get up.

Today, I am prepared to tackle the problems that my internal struggle has caused in my daily life. Head. On.

Today, maybe I can really smile and really laugh. And mean it.

Tomorrow, I'm not sure about.

Tomorrow is a scary place that I don't want to think about today.

Tomorrow, however, is a reality.

Tomorrow, I don't know how I'll wake up.

But I know that I will. Wake up, that is. I'll wake up tomorrow and the next day and the next day.

I know I can wake up and handle a rough tomorrow.

Because I'm not giving up today.

Messy Stressy

Over the past two weeks I have been super duper stressed and I didn't really know what to do. And it wasn't a situation in which I could just get rid of the stresser. I had to actually deal with them. Like an adult.

Which basically included a lot of crying and calling my mommy.

But through past anxiety attacks, freak outs, and, melt downs I have found some tools that help me get through.

1. Exercise. 

 Ew, right? But working helps me get rid of physical tension. And gets my blood going and the endorphins flowing. I noticed that if, at the end of my workout routine I just run as fast as I can for as long as I can, it pounds out the stress. In another life, I may have been a pretty aggressive person.

....

Moving on to 2. I don't add extra things on to my plate. 

This is a pretty universal thing, but I'm a project starter. For instance, when I need to focus on cleaning and organizing my room, I suddenly find something on Pinterest to make. And then I end with two unfinished ventures.

3. I get up 15 minutes earlier. 

...alright.

Weird, yes. Uncharacteristic, yes. Helpful? For me, yes. Because that gives me a little extra time to get associated with the day. When I'm stressed I become even more unorganized than I already am. So, I tend to forget more things. This extra 15 minutes gives me time to go through a mental checklist at my leisure.

4. I do as much as I can for myself the night before.

 I pick out clothes, make sure everything I need is in my purse, set out shoes, make my breakfast/set up my breakfast, etc. It's nice to have rather mindless activities before I go to bed, and these fit the bill. 

And finally, 5. When all else fails, I drop the sick beatz and have a dance party.

Usually, this includes a liberal amount of angsty rock tunes, power pop, and dose of hip hop. It's a potent blend.

This list of course is made of just a few things that have only been proven to help me. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm pretty sure I'm due for a All Time Low spaz dance party.

Ahhh!

It feels good to be back!

I decided to take an actual guilt free break from thrusting my emotions out to the world. 

Why would I do such a thing? Well, let me tell you! I was working 3 jobs and trying to get college stuffs in order and just didn't have the time, nor the mental capacity, nor the emotional strength to be bearing my soul to the interwebs. Not that many people read this...but still.

Anyway.

But I'm back and over the break, I was thinking, what do I REALLY want to talk about on my blog?

Because the reality is that it's mostly for my purposes and, like, two people read it. HOWEVER! I feel like I can do more than word vomit. I want to look back and see growth and helpful things. So, here we go.

This will henceforth be a blog about Singlehood, health (emotional, mental, physical), relationships, and my personal experiences and lessons learned from the aforementioned items. 

I'm not going to promise myself every week, because I know that won't probably happen. 

However I AM going to be intentional about writing and researching and experiencing. I promise. :D

Have a happy week!!

UGH!

I do this every. single. time. I start something and then life gets crazy and I just forget about everything worthwhile. Boo.

Anywho.

I'm sorry. So, if my count is correct, I owe the interwebs about 5 weeks worth of embarrassing pictures. Hm. That's going to take some time. 

Well. If I just take my camera with me when I leave the house tomorrow I should have sufficient media.

In other news, I'm working on some ideas for my life and this public journal stuff. It will probs be super epic. 

-ly terrible. But, that's where I'm at. If you don't like it, don't read it. Which is what all but two people in the world are doing . Not reading my blog, that is. 

Yes. More on Thursday. 

Kbye.

Drugs and such

I'm a druggie now. Yup. I take Trazodone. I'm a street hardened criminal. It's fine.

Jk. My doctor prescribed it to me. On the lowest dosage. 

Summation of the sleep aid: WONDERFUL. 

In other news, I'm about to start a new goal. You know those posters that are black and white and have inspirational sentences and challenges on them? Like, the Holstee Manifesto? Well, I have a couple of those and am currently trying to brainstorm some things to with them. Maybe do two of the goals each week.

Yeah, I don't know. I had this revelation on my 6 hour drive home.


This is kind of a cop out blog. But I did it. And that's what counts.

So, funny story....

There was a homicide in my apartment complex.

Yup. 

So, that's neat.

Basically, this guy killed this other because the guy was going to tell on the other guy... Alright. Let's just call them Mr. A (aka Street Hardened Killer) and Mr. B (aka Dead Guy).

At approximately 8:30pm on Monday, Mr. B was getting ready for bed because he had a big day on Tuesday. He was going to testify in court against Mr. A. Mr. A tracked him down, popped a cap in him, and left the scene. 

What was Mr. B testifying about? I'm glad you asked! He was going to testify against Mr. A because Mr. A had apparently shot him last year as well. Unfortunately, the streets hold no mercy, and Mr. B, may he rest in peace, will be testifying in a higher court. Or a lower court, as the case may be. Well, possibly both. Because, he'd have to go to the pearly gates first, right? And then be sent down? 

Hm.

Well, clearly I need to work on my theology. But the fact remains, a man is dead. And, a killer is on the loose.

And that's why this entry is a bit late. Because I have anxiety. Like, panic attack anxiety. And it's going crazy this week!

The office people at the complex were all like, "It was just a targeted shooting. It was an isolated event. There's absolutely nothing for you to worry about."

Mm. Right. But, except, bullets. And DEATH. But other than that. Yeah. Totes fine.

My roommate and I also recently found out we live next to THE biggest drug operation in the county. 

And this is why I can't make friends with my neighbors. 

As a side note, I realize that I have broken the promise and thus am required to submit a humiliating picture of me. However, I think that due to extenuating circumstances, I should be let off the hook, provided that I extend the promise an extra week.

Fair-ish?

Stay alive!

Korean Dramedies

I have found a sure fire way to NOT make friends. Here are the steps.

1.Search Korean Dramas on Netflix
2. Proceed to watch and be sucked into one.
3. Look at the handy dandy suggestions Netflix provides.
4. Watch another.
5. And another...
6. And another, until you never leave your room.

I don't know how this happened to me, but I have an addiction! Maybe it's because I finally, finally, FINALLY decided on a ESL major. Or maybe it's the massive amounts of assorted Asian cuisine I have been partaking in.  

I don't know. 

What I DO know is that I've burned through 6 series in the past two weeks. It's unhealthy. Outside of work, I haven't had real human contact. 

This. Is. A problem.

So, today I have decided that for the next week (starting on Sunday) I will not watch a Korean show, or may my eyes turn to jello. 

Fighting!

A-HA!!

Didn't think I was gonna get one in this week, huh?

Psh.

Heeeeeere's the thing:

I. Have friends.

Like real ones. That come over to my apartment. That I text. Who text me. Who I go shopping with.

 FRIENDS.

Yeah. It's kind of a big deal. 

Because, making acquaintances is easy. I talk to the same people everyday at the mall. Sometimes we even grab lunch together in the food court! But, it's really hard to make the jump between acquaintances and legitimate friends. And, as I've realized, there's not really a set of rules. Which I hate.

I like structure. 

I like direction. 

But there are none when you're trying to make friends!!! It's cutthroat! And nerve wracking. Asking someone to come over to your apartment is terrifying. Especially, if you work with them. Because, if they refuse, every single day after that is awkward. Well, I make it awkward. 

But still. 

Awkward. 

Yet, somehow this wonderful thing has happened. And there are people at my ghetto apartment. Right now.

....which means I should go. And talk with them. Because they are my friends.

Wheeeeew.

It's been a big week.

Peace out!

Sorries/resolutions/stuffs

Wow. 

It has been a while since I last blogged. And, there is a very good, proven reason as to why I haven't:

I suck with the whole "follow through" thing. 

It's something I've struggled with since I was a young'un. I'd pick something up, and I'd really enjoy it while it was new and exciting. But, when it started to take more work to see improvement, I slacked off. It wasn't that I didn't want to be good at anything. I would just rather not have to put in the work. In America, we like to call that the "Microwave Mentality", but it literally translates as, "lazy". 

</3

HOWEVER! I'm back! Not that many people read my blog... but for those who do, I'll try to be more regular. ActiviAAA!!

Anywho.

Yeah, so, happy New Year! How are your resolutions going? 

Hm? Mine? I haven't made them yet. 

And, I'm not sure that I will make them. Mostly because I forgot. But, also, but only slightly, but still, because of my failure to follow through.

When you/I think about it, I realize that my problem is still unsolved. I'm still a mess in dress. And tights. And cute shoes. But a mess. A mess who is going in ten thousand directions and not really giving any of those directions real attention.

So, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to promise to blog once a week, every week for the next three months. 

Why three months? Because I like the number three. I like trilogies. I like three meals a day. And, that's where my 3 obsession stops. But three is like the ultimate attainable number. 


Now, if I break this promise, I have to do something embarrassing in public, take a picture of it, and post it here. 

Aight?
Aight.

Today

Today, I feel like curling up into ball. 

I feel like throwing blankets over my head and hiding from the world. 

I feel like crying until I can't cry anymore. 

Is life ever just "too much"?

Today, is a Too Much day.

Today, I keep thinking of what I have to do tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. I see endless to-do lists and expectations for things I don't have to offer. 

I need answers! I need to make decisions! I need to sell more tea at work! 

I have so many things I need to get done, that I'm too overwhelmed to even start.

I had been doing pretty well. I had been pushing down the crazy. But, today, my body betrayed me. I got sick. Violently. At work.

Yeah. It wasn't pretty. And it was just one more thing to deal with. So, I went home. I called my mom, like any self-respecting adult. She didn't really seem to care that my little universe was imploding.

I said, "Mom! I got sick at work. And my car is broken-ish. And I don't know what everyone is making for Thanksgiving! And, I need to apply to colleges, but I don't even know where to begin! I don't know what I want to do with my life! I need another job! I can't pay my rent! I want to rip out my ovaries! It's Wednesday!"

She said, "I couldn't really understand you. I'm bringing fruit salad."

....alright. After saying goodbye, I flopped onto my bed and had a nice little dramatic cry into my pillow.

Honestly, I felt a little better, a lot sheepish, but a little better.  As I was wiping the tears, and mascara, from my face, I looked at my wall. And had an a-ha! moment. On my wall, I have a canvas that has an inspirational quote on it. The first line says, "Today is the day."

Simple stuff. But it reminded me that today is all I can do. Breathe in. Breathe out. 

I can do today. 

Tomorrow will have to wait.

Celebration of my Station

"SO. When are you going to find boy to marry?!" *wink*

Anyone else tired of hearing this question? Mmhmm. How about this one, "How can you STILL be single?"

I truly believe in the deepest recesses of my heart of hearts that the asker sincerely thinks this is a flattering query. However, to the Single Ear it loosely translates to: "What is wrong with you??" 

This is usually when I begin my well rehearsed 5 step routine:

1. Laugh
   1A. Laugh and shake head
2. Say, "I don't have time for that!!" 
3. Explain all the various activities taking up time in your busy schedule.
   3A. Make everyday activities sound like extracurriculars. 

Example: Conducting experimentation with vigorous oral regimens via the use of a fibril-like substance, made specifically for the purpose of excavating unwanted matter caught between hard, bony structures located in both the mandible and maxilla. 

                                                                       ~OR~

                                                                     Flossing

4. Change the subject.

Example: In other news, I hear your grandma ate an entire fleet of carrier pigeons. 

5. Run. 

But, what I hate the most is when the reply is, "Don't worry. You'll find someone soon."

Did I say I wanted a relationship? Am I that pitiful?? I don't understand why I have to be attached to another person to be deemed happy or acceptable. 

Yes, I have days when I feel lonely.

Yes,  I want to wear the pretty wedding dress I found on Pinterest someday.

Yes, I eventually want a houseful of chillens to boss around.

But, I also am enjoying my life right where it is right now! I love being able to make decisions that affect only me. I like being on this journey, not knowing what's up ahead, and being generally okay with that. I need the optional solitude being single allows.

THAT'S my life. It's hectic and crazy and wonderful. And I love it!

So, in this next week I'm going to celebrate my Singlehood. 

I'm going to drink straight  out of my milk carton. (Which I can do, because I have special lactose free milk my roommate doesn't use. And, also, I do what I want!!)

I'm going to take myself on a date.

I'm going to sit in Barnes and Noble for HOURS. 

I'm going to plan my future, then throw it out and start again.

I'm going to love on my Singlehood.

Whoop!

Dere it is.

Dishwasher Blues

Putting away dishes in the dark is a good idea for several reasons.

A.) You don't know if they actually got clean or not. And you don't care.

2.) You can ignore how the rest of the kitchen looks like a disaster area, and still feel accomplished because you put the freakin' dishes away.

In conclusion.) When you are overwhelmed by the task at hand, you can take a nap. Right there in the kitchen.

And I can't really find a way to tie that into a life lesson.

.....

I hate doing dishes. So much! And I was so excited when I moved into my new apartment, because it came equipped with a dishwasher! Woot woot! Raise the roof!!

But then, the dishwasher kinda sucked in a monumental sort of way, and didn't wash so much as it rinsed. Boooo! Put that roof back down!!

Ergo, I was doing the dishes before I put them into the dishwasher. And that's the most ridiculous thing I have ever done. Probs not. But it's in the top 17.

But, seriously! Don't label it as a "dishwasher" when it does not wash!  We have the technology to go to the moon!! And clearly, we are not utilizing that at current, so let's redirect our focus onto bigger and cleanlier things! 

The 'Merician people have voted! And they want an appliance that does it's job!! I don't want to have to outsource to the sink!! But I will do it if I have to. Oh, yes, I will.

Pitter Ponderings

So, today I was talking with my good friend, Romeo, The Kiosk Man. I don't actually know his name, but his kiosk is directly in front of Teavana, my location of employment. He is a small Turkish man who sells motorized toy boats and helicopters, sheets, and purses. To my knowledge, he owns three hats and only two pairs of jeans. (But, to be fair, one of those pairs might be three separate pairs of jeans, all sewn into one.) He is also in love with my roommate.
Their love story is the reason behind giving him the name Romeo. 

Would you like to hear the story? (Dora pauses awkwardly waiting for your response) 

GREAT! (She says even though you said no)

          Once upon a time, in far off city named Champagne*, Illinois, there lived a barista name Stacia*. Stacia worked in a mall and during her shift would make rounds to all the stores, seeing if any of the mall employees wanted to purchase a drink.
          One day, Stacia asked The Kiosk Man if he would like a drink. He replied in the affirmative and she began taking his order. This was nothing unusual. They had carried out the same routine time and time before. However, today The Kiosk Man had a special question.
          "What is your name?" TKM queried.
          "Stacia!" Stacia answered.
          TKM quickly rebutted this, "No. That is not your name."
         Stacia was confused. Does he think I'm someone else? she pondered.
         So she asked, "Who did you think I was?"
         "Juliet," he answered swiftly and boldly, "For I am Romeo."
And, they lived happily ever after!! 

*Some names and places have been changed to protect identities from being compromised, and myself from the vengeful wrath of my roommate.

So, there you have it. True. Love.

Anywho, Romeo, TKM and I were talking today about Stacia and whether or not she had a boyfriend. Then the topic of my love life was called into question.  -_-

"No," I admitted bitterly ('cause it was just one of those days), "I'm not in a relationship."

But, then he asked why. And at first , I was all like, "Well, I daily make it my goal to purposely be the most undesirable human being this world has ever known. As you can see, it's really working out for me. Thanks for asking." But, after the initial sarcastic response, I seriously considered the question.

It's not like I've never thought about it before. I have. But, today, as I handed out samples, I really pondered that question.

Here are some reasons I came up with:

1.) When I meet people, I immediately become androgynous, so as to provide them with whatever they need from me as a friend, thus resulting in them not leaving me. And ergo, I don't think of them being as anything more than buddies, good friends, compadres.

2.) I'm not who I want to be yet, and therefore feel that I'm not ready to be in a relationship. 

Number 1 will have to be a deliberate mind set change. But the second one.....I don't know. I don't know how to change that. Who I want to be is changing everyday. And can I really say that someday I will completely flawless? I would never expect that from my significant other. So why do I think I must achieve perfection? 

I really think it all comes back to the problem on which a lot of the horror of puberty could be blamed: I don't know if I like myself, mainly because I'm not somebody else. 

How do I come to a place where I accept myself, yet still strive to be better? I know that's what I want, and I know all the cliched answers. But, I have no practical knowledge of how to work towards that. 

So. That's what I'm going to be pondering this week. 

Stay beautiful errbody!

So on and so forth

Let's just revisit the claims I made last time I blogged it up. 
Ew. That sounds gross. Say it out loud. 
See? Gross.
Take 2: Let's revisit the claims I made when last I endeavored to blog. 
In this next week I will:
Strike up real conversations with my coworkers.
Actually talk to my barista.
Say hello to my neighbors.
And, finally, join a group of some kind.
And I will write about it.
Alright, it's on the internet. So I have to do it.
Boom.

So, here we all are. Before I comment on my misadventures, I would just like to say that I dominated this. Like a boss. Like a socially awkward boss. 

Numero Uno! - Strike up a real conversation with my coworkers. 
This one was harder than I assumed it would be. As an American, I am prone to idle blather. Chitchattering small talk to fill empty space. HOWEVER! Being the social beast that I have always prided myself on being, I managed to talk with my coworker about boring politics, and we're planning on working out together.  CHECK.

Numero Dos! - Actually talk to my barista.
This one was a bit of a cheat. My best friend/roommate is a barista. Therefore, I talk to my barista all the time. But, as I frequently frequent her location of gainful employment, I have managed to get to know a couple of the other baristas. Now, we aren't buddies, but I do wave to them and know their names. Check? I think yes.

Numero Tres! - Say hello to my neighbors.
Alright. I would just like to point out that I live in the ghetto of Urbana, IL. Clearly, talking to some of my neighbors is inadvisable at best. Nevertheless, I have overcome the restrictions of social stigmas and common sense. Consequently, I formally met Satan and Lucifer (This is how they presented themselves.). These two upstanding gentlemen are our upstairs neighbors. They like to smoke on the patio and talk to unsuspecting neighbor girls. They also enjoy smoking substances, that may or may not be entirely legal, in the bathroom. I know this because the smell drifts into OUR bathroom, and I get the munchies. A grand time is had by all. Ch. Eck.

Numero Cuatro! - I became a volunteer at the Boys and Girls Club! It was frightening and painful. But, I do believe I'm a better person for it. Or I will be. When I regain feeling in my  legs. Initially, I wasn't really sure if it counted as a group, buuuuut Imma checkity check it off the list. 

Whew! That was easier but simultaneously harder than I thought it would be. The lesson to be learned here today is that even if you have a second hand high from your neighbors' pot addiction, you can make pseudo friends and be tortured by small children who want to "play" with your hair. 

And, at the end of the day, isn't that what we all want?

peace

It's Thursday!

SO, when you read Single Girl in the City, I imagine you imagined a big city like New York or Los Angeles. Or even Chicago.
Nope.
I'm stationed in Champaign, Illinois.
So, yeah, maybe it's not a huge metropolis. But, hey! I grew up in a town where the shopping options were Walmart and Farm and Home.
Basically, I feel like singing like Tracy Turnblad whenever I leave the apartment.
"Good morning, Cha-ampaign!" It's a bit of a stretch; just go with it.
In short, I have arrived!
Annnnnyway, I just moved here and realized that getting connected is HARD. Especially when you're starting from scratch. Especially when you're not in college. Because, in college it seems like you're being brave, and stepping put of your comfort zone, and being an extrovert. But, friends, I'm here to tell you: This just isn't true.
For instance, how do you make friends in college?
How did I? Band. Choir. Roommates. Classmates. Clubs. See? Everything was readily available. There was no searching or very much risk.
Eragon (ergo), I'm challenging myself this week. And, while I realize zero to no people read this blog, I'm challenging everyone out there, too.
In this next week I will:
Strike up real conversations with my coworkers.
Actually talk to my barista.
Say hello to my neighbors.
And, finally, join a group of some kind.
And I will write about it.
Alright, it's on the internet. So I have to do it.
Boom.

Greetings, dear ones!

Hey-o!

Let's just get right to the nitty gritty: Singlehood can be hard. Especially, when it seems that everyone and their three Welsh Corgis are in relationships, getting married, having children....

Ew.

Don't get me wrong, I love kids! I just don't think I'm ready for a permanent one right now. And that's kinda how I feel about a relationship. Well, somedays. Other days, I lay in bed watching While You Were Sleeping or The Proposal or any romantic movie with Sandra Bullock (Except The Lakehouse. What was that?!) and I think/sob into my pillow, "Why can't that be my life?"

The simple answer to that is I'm not brave enough to jump onto railroad tracks to save a man, I'm not cool enough to be from Canada, and nowhere near being as awesome as the one and only SB! SO, there you have it. The three reasons I'm single.

Just kidding! But, I do think Hollywood has created an image that little girls who became women who at heart are still little girls have a hard time replacing. This idea that the perfect relationship is action packed and dangerous and devious and explosively dynamic, yet realllllly easy- it's damaging! These are unfair expectations that Disney and Warner Bros. have ingrained in our impressionable hearts.

Alright, alright. I'm not hating on anyone. I just think we need to be more real with each other. So, that's what this is  going to be about. Being real and raw and honest and completely vulnerable.

Singlehood can be hard. It can also be easy, wonderful, disappointing, magical, exciting, boring, crazy, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.  It's an adventure, and I don't know what the end of my movie will look like.   Will I make it out alive? Will I save the world one blog at a time?! Probs not. Buuuuut, I'm way excited to find out!