Congrats to my very good friend Maria who is tying the knot today! Singledom will miss you but we’ll get over it with obscene amounts of ice cream and chocolate like how we get over everything else.
this was pre-vomit, if you know what I mean. Look at how happy we were before alcohol came into the picture, me lovin’ up on these ladies. 3 long islands later, I’m threatening to punch one of them in the vagina for taking pictures of me draped over the toilet vomiting my brains out.
I woke up this morning in a bit of a funk (that ‘Speak to me and I will kick you in the face no matter how much I love you’ kind of funk) because I had this very emotionally-arresting dream. Emotionally-arresting by which I mean painful, like it’s your subconscious kicking you right in the nuts without warning.
In this dream I kissed one of my guy friends while he was wearing a peacoat. Which is odd because I don’t even know if he owns a peacoat (albeit a good investment, to the very little population of males currently reading this — and if so, bless your soul). And it was terrifying because then you pull back and you’re like, That’s it. The end of our friendship. We aren’t mature enough to pretend that never happened. Hello! We’re 21. The fact that we still get excited about buying alcohol says volumes about how so immature we are.
- Lately I’ve been doing all my writing on the kitchen table in our kitchen. This is because we’re all pretty much waiting for one of our roommates to move out to make a switcheroo and what it really boils down to is that for the meantime I have to do all my writing on the kitchen table, which is swell because it is easily the best part of the house.
- then one of our (newer) roommates makes her daily comment of “Have you been at that table all day?” in this snobby tone to which I have to fake smile and shrug my shoulders in a What Can You Do? manner while fantasizing about sometimes choking her out, maybe
- it makes me wish having a room to hide out in to avoid all of the judgy people judging me for my pre-semester lifestyle which involves writing all day and drinking excessive amounts of coffee and occasionally threatening to “cut” this dog (jokingly)
- this dog. Let’s talk about this dog! Actually, let my tweet screencap tell you about my feelings about this dog
but let me clarify that my life right now does not reek of dog shit, not symbolically anyway. It actually smells like the bomb-ass Mexican food my roommate made me the other day because she’s a culinary angel sent from God sent to cook for us simpletons who would otherwise think dinner is a plate of microwaved Market Pantry rice and frozen chicken nuggets.
A few days ago I was sitting with a friend eating candy (something chocolate-covered, enough said) and it was late at night so we were just talking about whatever came to mind, whether it was what sort of fashion trend we wish we could pull off, where we’d want to live after college was over, how much people would have to pay us to eat a whole bin of the food we hated the most, which movie star we’d like to punch in the face (Tom Cruise was a pretty common response, but so was John Mayer), etc. And so, in between mouthfuls of candy, she asked me, “Say you just published your first book. What is the first thing you would do?”
"It depends. Is it a best-seller?" AKA how many cosmic brownies can I buy with my first check? You can always measure your success in cosmic brownies. Or, for later on, can I finally buy a house in the alps with a custom-made Jurassic Park-themed nightclub? With guest rooms that will be suspended in the trees surrounding it and all of my friends will have to zipline to the common area. (If you don’t want to be my friend after you just read what I would do with a sizable amount of money, then there is no reason you should be following me on tumblr. Or speaking to me in real life.)
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my friend, who is a math major, and what he said to me a little while ago. He said that whenever his life starts to feel out of control, he pulls out this little pad of paper from his pocket that he brings with him everywhere, and he does math. He says the more elevated the pressure/stress, the more intricate the math problem. He just sits there and does the problem step by step, like how they teach us in school, and he doesn’t quit until it’s all solved. He says that by the time he’s finished with the problem, he feels better.
And I loved that. I’m complete shit at math but when he told me that I envied him a little. I love the juxtaposition of life’s haphazardness and the black-and-white simplicity of a math problem, how there is always an answer (and usually it’s one answer) — and how that answer doesn’t change unless the equation (or the values represented in the equations) changes. Once he told me that was one of the reasons math appeals to him so much: because there’s always an answer. And that answer doesn’t change. He said, “Mathematics is the rational man’s sport. There are no surprises. It’s comfortably predictable.”
I just had a great surprise visit from my roomie/friendsbian Meghan and we hit up the zoo! Here is a picture I took of two meerkats sleeping on a log that I’m totally infatuated with.
I’ve got a day trip tomorrow to LA with my BFF and I was assigned the task of delivering the tunes. 3 volumes of the guiltiest pleasure fun dance-in-your-car LA-traffic-I-don’t-mind-it music! I am sooo ready to whip my hair back and forth.
I hung out with a friend the other day, and I happened to make him a mixed CD, so we were just sitting around and talking about music. He pointed out that one of the songs ("Young Blood" by the Naked and Famous) on the mixed CD I’d just made him had also been on the last one I’d made him, last winter. Which is a little embarrassing. But instead of telling him that I have a tendency of not keeping track of my playlists, I (defensively) told him the obvious: “What? I love that song.” Maybe some songs deserve to be given multiple times.
And then he asked me why. It’s weird when people ask you why you love something, because then you have to really think about it, about how this thing that you love is just a sum of its parts and whether you would still love it if it was stripped into its separate parts. So I thought about it. “I feel like it encapsulates what being young feels like for me, right now,” is what I said. “Like you’re struggling in the in-between of adolescence and young adulthood. You want to be romantic about life, and you are, still, but you can also feel yourself getting jaded, getting disillusioned, and you’re fighting that. But at the same time you know it’s a battle you’re going to lose. So you hold onto every moment for as long as you can.”
Every time I hear that song, I feel intensely. Which is probably a weird song to say that about, because it’s no Bon Iver or anything (though it goes to say that I also feel very intensely listening to Bon Iver, don’t get me wrong). But everything about that song, how the lyrics are tragic and even sometimes pleading but sunken into this sweet synthy dance beat, it’s incredibly bittersweet. It reminds me of the last days of summer, of silently watching the sun set outdoors, of the grim knowledge lurking in the back of your mind that things will change. I love it because it’s so sad but sweet and pure. It’s like saying goodbye to innocence.
- I baked whoopie pies today while I marathoned the LOTR trilogy. It’s so calming to bake to the sounds of battle in Middle Earth.
- Any time my brain gets all restless I usually go running. That usually does a good job of redirecting my thoughts from my paradoxical frustrations about my own psyche to hating running and marveling at how it always seems like such a good idea at first before you get to the first quarter of the mile and then you’re cursing every living thing you pass.
- I remember once my philosophy prof telling me that you can, in fact, control your thoughts. Which might be like some Buddhist thing, but that must be a prize of some kind of higher level of enlightenment - a level of which I have not reached - because I feel like my thoughts have even set up electric fences around themselves and so they’re impossible to even touch. Which makes me feel so many things, all of which are probably things self-help books aim to get rid of.
There are honestly some moments you want to put in a glass jar and keep impeccably pure forever. Our last night in Vegas my friends and I went to Haze nightclub at the Aria and I ended up dancing with this amazingly sweet and pulchritudinous guy and it was perfection in the sappiest, Hallmarky-est, vomitous way possible. I danced with a LOT of frogs those two nights (read: creeps), but then at some point you hit the jackpot.