This Could Be an Epiphany: Anything and Everything That Could and Would Come to Mind

Ten Reasons (posting whilst in progress to give Agne a laugh)

2013-01-06T22:46:00.000-05:00

So it starts like this.

While in Texas for the holidays, I went to visit my dad's classroom with him one day and ended up tagging along to this inter-departmental Christmas party with some of his colleagues. It was fun, in a tame, room full of scientists kind of way, until David- a research scientist who my father refers to as 'the kind of man who's fabulous and knows it', complete with the hand flip and exaggerated lisp- commented that I had a 'reason for everything'.

Now, of course, we all know that's a polite way of saying that I'm the Queen of Excuses, capital 'Q' included. Which, for anyone who knows me, is a fairly accurate statement. I justify EVERYTHING, from why I'm telling you complete bullshit to why my shirt is intentionally inside out- whether it actually WAS intentional or not.

typical example of my bullshit justifications:

"but like, you don't understand. I was out of laundry detergent, and like, it's like thirty degrees out, and the nearest store that sells detergent and is open early enough for me to be able to get the detergent, do my wash, and make it to class in time was too far for me to make it in the cold. And, I mean, all my other shirts were even dirtier than this one, and I already wore this shirt this week, and it's got a super-obvious front... so I decided to wear it inside out, so at least people just thought I was careless and not re-wearing my clothes."

(You get my drift.)

BUT BACK TO WHAT I WAS SAYING.

So anyways, this guy basically tells me to my face, in front of my father and his friends and colleagues, for all the world to hear, that I have a reason for everything I do.

He's not saying it unkindly, but just reflect on that- here I am, a young almost-professional, being told that I am a master bullshitter. My initial reaction-

I'M NOT SURE HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS.

Then I came to the conclusion that, well...

If I've got it, might as well market it.

So this is my list. These are ten reasons. Reasons why, reasons for, reasons to believe, and any other kind of exponent of reasons that I generally give.

#10. THE REASON for WHY I DON'T WANT TO LEARN TO SPEAK CHINESE

(and, since they go together so well, why I think I'm going to get a job in languages without knowing it)

One thing that people are constantly bringing up in conversation, particularly around me, is Chinese. It starts with someone asking me what I'm majoring in- which, to be fair, usually results in a pretty roundabout answer from me. It usually goes something like-

"well, I'm studying Public Relations, ya know, PR, which is like communications stuff, and business law as a possible pre-law. I want to do diplomacy. I'm in languages."

So naturally, I get when this results in them having absolutely no clue what I want to do. Honestly, I feel like an asshole every time I do that. I promise you, I would much rather just tell them what I'm majoring in, and what I want to use it for... but, as opposed to the nugget of brilliance I settle for, that would sound more like-

"so, the school I attend is great. It's global, it's engaging, I love my professors, <insert the whole nine yards here>. Unfortunately, though, they don't offer many majors that have to do with becoming a diplomat in Eastern Europe, which is what I want to do. So I've cobbled together a Public Relations major, so I have a good grasp on how to be politically correct and not piss people off, a Business Law minor, so I have a solid grasp on the legal system without law school, and spend a lot of my spare time learning as many languages as I can."

You see what I mean.

Inevitably, once I say languages, people ask which ones. Makes sense, really- there's nothing to ask about PR, I've already eliminated the need to ask about grad school by mentioning the 'pre-law', and diplomacy sort of explains itself. It's once we get to the languages, though, that the suggestions- which I have aptly titled WHY WHAT YOU ARE DOING IS WRONG AND THIS IS WHAT I WOULD DO INSTEAD IF I WERE YOU- start to roll in.

Oh, wait.

Did I say suggestions?

SO SORRY.

I meant SUGGESTION. As in singular.

It seems that everyone, in light of the insanely growing Chinese economy, is convinced that one must learn Chinese in order to be successful internationally. They all give the same excuses. Or, since they're my forte and I should really always display them in the best light possible, the same reasons. Every time.

Well, I have a justification for every reason they give.
THEIR REASON: "In twenty years, the only people who aren't speaking English are going to be the Chinese."
MY REASON: Okay. Let's assume this is true. I mean, there's some logic behind this- using statistical analysis and projection charts, there's a good chance that English is going to become a global language in a very literal sense. But other nations will probably still hold on to their native tongues at least until my generation passes, since changes like that are extremely gradual.

THEIR REASON: "The demand for bilingual employees who can interact with China is much higher in both the government and businesses."
MY REASON: Much higher, sure. That doesn't mean there isn't a demand for bilingual employees WHERE I WANT TO WORK, and I would like to enjoy my job.

THEIR REASON: "No matter what industry you work in, no matter who you are interacting with, the Chinese are there."
MY REASON: This makes sense, honestly. I get what this is saying, I do. What these people fail to understand, though, is that China is not the only market that is rapidly growing and increasing interactions with English-speaking nations. Eastern Europe is still a mass of developing nations, with young governments and even younger industries. PLUS, THAT IS WHERE I WANT TO WORK.

THEIR REASON: "I wouldn't be surprised if Chinese became more commonly spoken than English, even!"
MY REASON: There is actually not even enough time in the day to justify myself against this stupidity.

I rest my case.

#9. THE REASON I gave my parents behind HOW MY TATTOO IS JUSTIFIED

Growing up, my parents had this rule that was basically summed up to we don't care if you get a tattoo, but if you do, you gotta move out, so basically we actually care a lot and don't do it. This was reiterated with utmost sincerity by my mother on multiple occasions, as I tended to bring it up whenever I thought we were having a mature conversation that made me seem like a rational, intelligent adult who was capable of making her own life choices. So it's not like I wasn't aware of the rule when my eighteen-year-old self took her still-living-at-home ass to Houston Ink at eleven pm on a Friday night and spent a hundred and fifteen dollars on something very much non-returnable. At midnight, I came through the back door, stood behind the couch and talked to my parents for about twenty minutes, then went to bed. The next morning, I went shopping with my mom, wearing a cute loose sundress. By school Monday morning, I was back in regular clothes, and as I sat down for dinner with the family, I was sure everything was going to be fine.

About a month later, though, I was running late for work, and as I tumbled down the stairs and tugged my shirt into place, my dad stopped me.

"Who drew that on your hip? It looks really cool, but shouldn't you have been paying attention to your classes?"

My mom, being less clueless than my dad, figured it out immediately- and, just like that, my secret was out.

Of course, my mom- being my mom- was convinced I did it as a way to tell my parents 'Fuck You'.

My dad, rather, assumed I was trying to piss them both off.

Oh, please.

Quite to the contrary.

In my mind, this is how I saw it-

At the time, I was- as were many of us as teenagers- very convinced that my parents wanted what was best for me, but didn't really have a good grasp on what that actually was. I was certain that many of the things I wasn't allowed to do were things I was banned from based on personal preferences, and not on actual matters of safety, and as a result I concluded that if I managed to show my parents that no harm came from these things, that they would learn to accept them. In this case, I was sure that getting a tattoo wasn't detrimental to my future, but simply something that my mom wouldn't personally choose to do- so I did it. I wanted to show them that I could still be a good, well-liked student, and I could still hold a job and be successful, and meet a nice guy, all with my tattoo.

Really, my tattoo is justified because I like it, and it because breaking my parents' rule didn't cause me harm.

#8.THE REASON that MY ROOM IS NEVER CLEAN

FIRST: THERE IS THIS THING THAT I LACK CALLED ADEQUATE STORAGE.
I don't know if I'm the only person who believes this, but- storage. It's actually one hundred percent necessary, regardless of whether it comes in the form of a walk-in closet custom designed at the Container Store or in the form of a very large cardboard box. If you don't have storage, you're going to be a mess, even if you're the neatest person alive.

EXHIBIT A WOULD BE ME.

My room isn't necessarily sparse, but I don't have a whole lot in the way of places to put things.

First and foremost, I live in a converted bedroom. So in lieu of a closet, I have one normal-sized armoire for all my clothes (which, in case you were wondering... doesn't hold all my clothes)
For pretty much anything non-clothing related, I have this ceiling-high, five-shelf set of shelves that's very nice, but very open (read: unless you're a fan of 'random piles of junk that don't make much sense to anyone' as a theme of home decoration, you're either going to be very messy or have very empty shelves)
A three-drawer Rubbermaid unit that holds toiletries, bandaids, all my makeup, and EVERY SINGLE SOCK, UNDERWEAR, BRA, OR PAIR OF TIGHTS THAT MY SORRY SELF OWNS

In the corner by my armoire, I constantly have clothes overflowing and scattered across the ground- or, if we're being realistic, stuffed into the laundry basket so that finding clean clothes is somewhat of a sick, horrible game every day. I have a shelf for papers and a shelf for snacks and a shelf for jewelry and school supplies, but it really just looks like the inside of a junk drawer and makes me incredibly pissy.

SECOND: I HAVE A MILD AVERSION TO FINISHING THINGS

This includes cleaning my room.

THIRD: THE REST OF MY APARTMENT IS NEVER CLEAN, EITHER, AND THAT'S NOT MY FAULT

Okay. Realistically, if we're getting super-technical, this is as much my fault as as it is my roommate's. In the interest of being super-technical, my apartment is not clean because neither my roommate NOR I

do his dishes,

take out the recycling in a timely manner (even though the recycling bin scares me),

mop the floor when he won't take off his shoes,

put away his groceries when he leaves them on the floor,

clear his empty chinese containers off the breakfast table

(BUT I MEAN, REALLY.)

As a result, there's not much room anywhere but my bedroom for me to put anything, and since there's no storage...

It's a vicious cycle, really.

#7.THE REASON my mother gave for MARRYING MY DAD

#6. THE REASON I am ALWAYS BROKE

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#5. THE REASON I wear RALPH LAUREN, J CREW, AND LILLY PULITZER

(Dedicated to the haters who think that these are just a grown-up's Abercrombie and Fitch)

fjdkaslfjkdsagjadsklg

#4. THE REASON behind MY HIGH SCHOOL SPANISH GRADES

#3. THE REASON

#2.

#1.

1/11/11

2011-11-01T14:18:00.000-04:00

Yes, I am actually that cliche. You're welcome

Hmmmm... let's start with last night, and work backwards, since I haven't posted in a fair amount of time. November 1st is today, so dear reader, that would make last night... yes, Halloween. I was incredibly thrilled to be the black swan- until, of course, New York City got almost three inches of snow dumped upon us Saturday from dawn till dusk, and the temperatures might have been bearable for those highly inebriated in their miniscule outfits, but I just couldn't bring myself to risk my extremities for frostbite. So I sat and babysat a belligerent, whiskey-saturated young man whilst watching the Rangers-Sharks hockey game. Side note on the game? The Sharks were just flat-out sloppy. Back to my charge for the night, though... I took some fantastic pictures for posterity, and wore makeup for the first time in forever. I mean, I wear foundation and brown eyeliner sometimes, but I had the whole nine yards- powder, blush, concealer, eye liner in two colors and shadow and a light dusting on my lips. I was self-conscious the whole night, believe you me. Two of Mr. Whiskey's roommates didn't recognize me at first- one assured me it looked good, but I just can't wrap my head around the fact that I looked like a different person. Girls are really all right with that? I mean, don't get me wrong- I don't fancy myself beautiful, so looking different isn't necessarily a bad thing. But what happens when you're tired, or sick, and someone sees you sans-makeup? That shouldn't be a bad thing. They should know exactly who you are.

Moving backwards, though... on a positive note, I got to see my aunt this weekend! She flew in from Munich for business, but didn't have any work until Sunday evening. So right now, I'm catching up on all the work I didn't get a chance to do over the two days she was here- I think it was well worth the frantic academic hustling I'm doing now. We got chances to talk for hours, we walked in the snow (yes, by the way- it snowed! Right? I was as shocked as you are), we shopped, and I got to show her my city. I also got a chance to talk to her about possibly interning for her this summer- the more I think about it, the more I want to do it. She didn't give me a definite yes, but did promise to think it over and see if it would be a viable option- which makes me ecstatic.

Looking at the relationships in my life, though- let's see. Roommates and I don't see much of each other at the moment, we're all the kind of busy that make people wonder what on earth is keeping us going. I still adore them both, though, and miss one of them in particular like crazy. I went through a minor stage of paranoia where I was completely, one hundred percent convinced that she was upset with me for some reason or another, much to her bewilderment- she swears up and down its just us being busy, and looking at it rationally, that makes perfect sense. My own schedule doesn't even leave me time to take naps on the weekends, let alone get up any time after nine, and hers isn't much different- we need to set aside a 24 hour time frame to just fuck around and be ludicrous together. Best friends outside of the room- girl-wise, things are going so much better. I've got two or three friends that, while I don't plan to trust them with everything in my life, I love spending time with (when I have spare time to spend, which means maybe once a week, in class). One of my friends was letting the stress get to her- we all do it, but it's no easier to watch it happen to someone else- but I feel like 1/1/11 is really bringing the realization that we've almost made it halfway through one of the hardest years of our lives, things are going to be all right. On the guy side? Once again, two or three that I adore, and two in particular that I wouldn't trade for the world. I'll always love them both with as much of my heart as I can muster for a single person alone, though one will always be the brother I need and want and one could be anything from my best friend to my boyfriend to my confidante to my one true love. It's amazing, when you think about it, how you can love two people just as much as one another, and the love can be completely different for each person. It's all about emotional elasticity- is that even a term? If not, it's one now.

The only thing going wrong? The one person I thought could be something incredible seems to be slipping. The worst part? There's literally nothing I can do to stop it- because as of the last time we spoke (which was so long ago that I don't even remember the amount of time that's elapsed anymore), we haven't even exchanged nods in passing. For all I know, I've been completely forgotten- guys can compartmentalize better than girls, particularly when it's not something they feel like they need anymore.

'Some say it's wise not to mess with the balance of things, but life needs to get a little shaken up sometimes to make sure the balance is the right one.'

Till the lights go out

2011-10-21T00:35:00.000-04:00

So, weak as I am, I decided to put on something relatively cute and do my hair for russian class today. Straightening my hair, I realized that I had split ends for days... naturally, I decided to trim them and ended up giving myself a legitimate haircut. How does this even happen?

On the other hand, I now have my Halloween costume planned out. For one day, I'm renting the actual Black Swan tutu. Thank God I'm skinny- it's a tight fit right now, but I can get rid of five pounds by Halloween. That's in nine days. That's easy. To buy it, which would enable me to get it in my own measurements and not the ballerina's who wore it before me, would be $585. I know I have a problem, but it's not that bad. Yet.

I am completely ready for the fresh start I'm about to embark on.

It's Time to Soul-Search

2011-10-16T15:26:00.000-04:00

Clearly, it's time to soul-search. Sex, drugs, money, music... you hear all about it in songs and in movies and in your favorite drugstore paperbacks. Kids want to be famous and adults want to be kids and it all seems so glamorous when we look at the world with the bright lights in our eyes. But then we're 39 stories up and we're talking to people who have been there, done that, and they're working on building up careers and lives already. The vodka flows freely and the music's loud but tasteful and the night air is fabulous, but you then think about what it's going to take to make your life what it is for the people around you and you realize that you need to work harder. You need to think more and stop using 'it's college' as your excuse for everything.

I talk far too much, I know.

Tori Amos on my mind

2011-10-06T16:27:00.000-04:00

So I just finished my Russian homework and had this overwhelming need to listen to songs from 1992. I know... I know. Listen to it, though. Take four minutes out of your day and realize why she was silent for so long. If it doesn't move you, well... shoot me.

Homesickness.

2011-10-04T22:49:00.000-04:00

I won't lie to you- I don't miss Texas one tiny bit. I don't miss driving, I don't miss the heat, I don't miss the humidity. I don't miss my old job or my old school or my bedroom or any of those things that people tell you are the little things you come to miss. I just don't. I'm homesick like crazy for my best friend, though. Seriously- getting a text at two in the morning has never made me cry harder than when I realized I hadn't gone to Starbucks for an overpriced house drip and a coffeecake with him in ages. We haven't gone shopping, I haven't gotten those awkward hugs that pulled me in too close and held me too tight and went on for too long. I haven't been to a lax party and had him pull up his shirt and scream at me about how hairy his chest is and we haven't gotten dressed up and gone out for an eighty-dollar meal and wandered the Galleria in almost half a year now. Seriously, I cried. Like a baby. I'm not ashamed of it, either. People saying 'there's nothing wrong with crying... I just never do it'. Well, I do.... and this was one of those times. Seriously, I'll trade in just about anything to spend a day with him.

Welcome To October!

2011-10-04T05:32:00.000-04:00

So work is phenomenal... and oh, wait, it's fifty degrees outside. For anyone who's reading this who isn't from Houston, this is something I'm not fully accustomed to at the commencement of October... I love it. I really do.

Anyways. I was talking to one of my friends about the fact that I'm getting a decent amount of traffic here at the moment. Why? I asked. I literally only ever write about my life. I don't tell you about the primaries, or the free Coldplay concert at 42nd and Times Square in the coming weeks. I don't post celebrity sightings or NYC gossip. I just talk about, well, my life. Which, while there's always something to write about, sort of amounts to a lighthearted easy summertime read- in other words, not necessarily something that deserves a steady following. His response? Apparently, this is exactly what people want to read about. Of course, if I'm getting boring as all manner of heaven and hell, let me know- reader feedback is the best kind of feedback. Unless told otherwise, though, I think my misadventures, overthinking, spending sprees, and musings are going to remain my most blogged topics.

I'm really in love. Really. It's scary.

My obsession with Spotify

2011-09-29T14:02:00.000-04:00

For starters, my roommate and I (now my roomMATES and I, but more on that later) have discovered this one spot in our room where, if you open the blinds but don't push them up and turn off the lights but don't turn on a lamp, you get the best lighting and angle for webcam photos EVER. I took one of myself looking like a ballerina- and I know I quit dancing a bit back, but honestly, I'm all over this picture. I've tweeted it, I've made it my Facebook profile picture- and I'm generally not a narcissist. Seriously, though. When you find something beautiful, you hold onto it... even if it's just a snapshot in time.

See? I don't normally look anything this gorgeous. Even though I still don't know how to smile...

ANYWAYS. I'm sick, again. I hate that I keep complaining about how sick I feel but I never get sick this often. It's the pits. I'm using it and the fact that I'm fasting (hello, Catholic university... I'm Jewish, thanks for not cancelling classes) to skip everything in life and sit in bed, doing homework. Oh, and blogging... obviously. I'm also listening to Spotify. Have you not downloaded it yet? GET IT. It's like Pandora and iTunes had a lovechild, and delivered it to your desktop. Entire hand-picked playlists like iTunes, but free. Downside is you don't own the music... upside is, when I'm doing homework, I don't actually CARE if it's on my iPod. Try it, you might just love it too.

Twitter>Facebook. I never thought I'd say that. Fix yourself, Facebook.

M83 and the reason I can't sleep

2011-09-26T13:13:00.000-04:00

So I've been telling everyone about the social aspect of moving to New York- there's the fun and the sun and the cold and the drinks and the drunks and the comraderie and the fights and it's fantastic and we all know this now. What I've failed to mention thus far, though, is the way growing up can really hit you in the gut. Not always in a bad way- walking down the street at midnight, knowing you don't have to be anywhere, is one of the most refreshing feelings in the world. The lack of accountability- not having to tell someone where you are at any given time- is taking some getting used to, but I'm loving it. Still, the fact that college takes up 18 hours a week of classtime alone, I work five days a week, and I'm still expected to do my own cooking, laundry, shopping, cleaning... in that sense, being an adult is something I wasn't expecting. It's amazing how when you're a child, all you yearn for is not having to pick up when your parents text- but once no one needs to know where you are, everything it took to keep you afloat is up to you. Sure, I can spend hours sitting on my friend's bed, staring at the ceiling and eating nutella, or I can miss the train home and have to wait for the next one and not tell someone I'm running late. I have to swiffer my own floor, though, and do my laundry and make my bed and buy more toilet paper when I run out and charge my computer and buy a winter coat and make sure my bills are paid. It's freedom at all costs. It's independence of the highest order. It's the pursuit of happiness... and I never knew what that truly meant until I was living on my own.

Just to keep everyone updated on the parts of my life I tell you about so often, though- I'm still in love, crazy in love. I'm still having ups and downs and I'm still loving my whiskey and making money. And on the subway home, I'm still rediscovering some of the most meaningful songs, and listening to them on loop for the entire forty minutes. In other words, not much has changed- it's just getting colder-then-warmer-then-colder-still, day by day, and I'm still walking the world like I'm made of something more.

I wish I had my peacoat.

Does Anyone Remember Myspace?

2011-09-23T13:39:00.000-04:00

Seriously. That ridiculous site that's like Facebook on speed, with crazy backgrounds and funny profile names and obtrusive music being shoved in your face every time you click on someone else's page. My favorite part, personally, was all those little clip art quotes people would stick in their about me section. I loved those. I actually found some, and they made me smile. I've tweeted them, so I'll post them here for posterity too-

Nostalgia, anyone? I miss being able to post corny things at my friends.

I always seem to post the morning of multimedia...

2011-09-23T08:26:00.000-04:00

... which, by the way, is absurd. I have a 4 hour class with Mac desktops and a professor teaching me how to use the various blog interfaces and Picasa, and I blog... before class, when I should be sleeping. This is proof to everyone out there that college transforms us all into crazy people.

So, I have to go to work this evening. This is a good thing for multiple reasons- namely, the fact that I even HAVE a job. I've worked twice- both for training, so I don't think I actually made anything. But I digress, I'm still earning a paycheck towards clothes and a peacoat and music and food. I just need to find myself a decent work outfit now and I'll be good- right now, I'm dressing in a fairly heinous manner.

On the relationship side of my life, honestly, nothing has changed. I'm still in the same predicament I've been in since the first day of class, practically, only now I've made plenty of mistakes to complicate matters. Such a good thing, college.

Yes, I'm aware this was a brief, pointless, and mundane post.

Things Sometimes Get Confused

2011-09-18T16:22:00.000-04:00

Every once in a while, the way you view your friends and your life all sort of fall into a disarray. The people you most valued become those you refuse to speak to, and those you hadn't been spending nearly as much time with become the ones you tell everything to. I feel this might have something to do with the fact that I tried not to be best friends with the person I've been so close to for months on end. The fact that until we arrived in Manhattan, this was the only person I felt was worth staying up late to talk to, should probably have told me something. Regardless, I made a wrong turn, I followed the wrong road, turned around, and now I'm back where I began. Literally.

I'm totally okay with this... I think.

I Hate to Post Another's Woes

2011-09-16T00:56:00.000-04:00

So I shan't. Instead, I'm going to gloat- say hello to the new Greek Life beat reporter for the St. John's University official newspaper!

It was still a weird night. I have multimedia tomorrow, I should post more then.

Best Day Ever.

2011-09-15T02:53:00.000-04:00

So there's something to be said for a friend who can not talk to you all day, but still tell their security guard parent all about your problems and ask him to fix them. There's also something to be said for a dad who brings flats of water for his son's dorm and decides to split it between the son's dorm and your dorm, making sure you get the flat so it's easier to carry. There's something to be said for love, no matter the manifestation.

I wrote the longest memoir ever in theology today, I think I'll need to delete it.

Hanging By A Moment (And other songs for that kind of day)

2011-09-14T01:45:00.000-04:00

Well, it's now been three weeks since moving three thousand miles away from everything I've known and owned. I've been living off my own dwindling bank account for twenty days now- fuckery, I'm so broke. (Yes, I just used the word fuckery. If anyone's offended by the language, let me know! I can always take it down, but truly... I'm so broke.) Everything's starting to fall into a perfect little place and rhythm- I know who will text back when I'm bored and my eyes are glazing over in Principles of Public Relations. I know that walking up the hill every day to get to classes might take me an extra minute or two, but that's totally fine in the long run if it keeps me from gaining the Freshman Fifteen. I know that my bed sucks a big one when I'm mad sick and drowsy, because I feel like climbing out and down to get my computer to do homework is an adventure in itself. I know where the mailroom is and the nearest bar and the closest crepe restaurant and I know which kids I love and which ones are probably going to screw me over at some point. But enough about me, let's see how much you know-

Did you know that the food in the main dining hall on campus contains mild laxatives? This is a slightly personal and disgusting thing for me to be telling you via blog post via the internet, where you cannot see my face and I cannot gauge your reaction. This is apparently because kids go off to college and get all excited about carbs and my school just won't have any of those funny chubsters. You go, New York City colleges!

Did you know that with the right mattress pad, a college dorm bed is actually highly comfortable? True story- I've definitely crashed in three people's beds aside from my own so far. In public. With my friends all sitting there talking. This is actually my life.

Did you know that getting sick in college means you're about to take some of the sketchiest medications ever, and get the everliving shit scared out of you by the Queens Hospital? Once again, true story! The only thing the campus doctor can tell me about anything is that whatever I've had for the past few days is viral and not bacterial. Thank you, I knew that already. She told me to drink lots of fluids, sleep a lot (which trust me, I've been embracing to the fullest extent- I think I've been asleep more often over the last few days than I've been awake), and schedule an appointment with a real doctor. My roommate had a bugbite on her leg, so we went to the ER, and Christ, I've never seen so many missing teeth. Ew.

Finally, did you know that fratmusic.com is addictive? also, my third roommate still hasn't come back from wherever she stormed off to when she noticed the other two of us had a friend over. Seriously, we were sitting there talking. Or, should I say, they were sitting and talking- I, as per usual, was out cold on the bed next to them. I fail so hard.

I'm also still a little bit in love right now. Yes, IN love. We've been over this distinction, I hope you were listening- because I'm not about to go into detail. This is terrifying.

Getting Sick and a Trip To the ER

2011-09-12T19:06:00.001-04:00

So last night was that fire drill, good stuff. I hate fire drills, but I loved my friends. I've already said this, I feel rather repetitive. Honestly, though? Who gives a damn.

About the ER... my roommate and I had a moment of hypochondriachal (word???) hysteria and decided that her leg's bug bite and my hacking cough, chills, and mild fever were enough to make the trek across the walkway of our dorm to the Student Health Center. We determined that unless I get sicker, I can wait until the doctor comes in tomorrow. I'm sicker. Helloooooo, Aleve! The roomie, on the other hand, was deemed worthy of a trip to the ER in case the leg gets more infected. Proof of true love? I sat with that girl for almost five hours in the sketchy as hell waiting room, shaking and holding my head between my knees, waiting for antibiotics. I then went to Russian, and the Aleve kicked in, and now I'm only mildly sick. Good stuff.

I actually don't mind the trip we made, though. Adventures, galore!

This is us having those adventures. My hair was falling down, she was feeling rather gorgeous.

Never Better

2011-09-12T02:25:00.000-04:00

For the past few days, things have been operating much like a rollercoaster. I've been falling in and out of love with people. I've been fighting and making up without even noticing and taking pictures and getting drunk and eating too much ice cream. This is the epitome of high on life- having two fire alarms go off in a row, giving up, and going to a friend's room to do homework and act like fools at two in the morning. I've eaten poptarts and fajitas and had a heart-to-heart with one of my two favorite guys ever. I met his dad; greatest dad ever, by the way. I wish my dad was like that- and I'm not saying that in a bitchy, bemoaning kind of way. I know my dad loves me, I love him, but I wish I could swing by his work at four in the morning with one of my friends, meet them, and have him know exactly what to say to make them feel better.

My friends are the best.

Dear Downfall,

2011-09-05T14:58:00.000-04:00

My greatest enemy is my closest confidante. It's a mad, mad world we live in when the person we tell our problem to is the person causing the problem in the first place. I feel like nothing I can do but pray to the fate gods will gain me any good favor in this boy's heart.

I blog about boys far too often. Yet, isn't that anything and everything that comes to my mind? I feel justified.

Multimedia is Blowing My Mind

2011-09-02T13:13:00.002-04:00

I was a bit upset with myself. I haven't posted a thing since... last Tuesday. Since I was in Houston. Welcome to New York City, bloggers!

This has something to do with my crazy, silly, shouldn't behave like this Welcome Week. Cat, meet Traditions- the best, shoddiest bar-slash-dance club within easy walking distance of campus. I've danced like crazy. I've met a few sorority girls and a guy who wouldn't talk to me once my poor tipsy friend starting telling everyone I was 'the best' and he 'loved me'. Yes, the quotes are necessary. They symbol inebriation. I've stood on a chair in the back of the room and watched with tears in my eyes as the Sox lost 4-2, Yankees. I then sunk back to my chair and stared at the wall for a few hours until the owner asked me if I wanted to be the Designated Walker and bring a rather tipsy girl home. I've been that DW a few times, I've been the person stealing seats from people to get closer to the bar, and I've been having a blast with it. Don't ever, EVER forget to hit up the bouncer a few times- he'll love you forever, particularly if you talk to him sober (making you and he the minorities). I've also walked the circumference of Queens- it's beautiful! Some parts I was glad to be walking through in broad daylight, but others are just flat-out gorgeous.

Hmmmmm, let's see. I had a hurricane, hurricane party, hurricane supply shopping trip, hurricane run through campus... I know, didn't I just LEAVE Houston? Regardless, fun was had by all. I've taken a crossfit class with the ROTC, joined the debate team, consumed too much coffee, kissed my best friend, suntanned for the first time in years, run four miles a day, Skyped from my new mac, eaten fro yo, visited my friend's frat house (and judged the MAD sketch painting job! Seriously, boys, you can do better than this.) and made a new life for myself.

I'm skinny and pale and Jewish, and I am in New York.

Packing for Manhattan.

2011-08-21T23:28:00.000-04:00

According to my clock, it is officially Monday, August 22nd. Today marks my last day in Houston for.... well, fifteen weeks, then a two-week visitation stint, then another few years, at least. It's amazing how many gallon-sized Ziplocs it takes to pack all my clothes in an airtight manner, I must admit. I went through about two and a half boxes, and I was being pretty creative toward the end there with what I stuffed and sat on and rolled and zipped. Two suitcases, chock-full of clothes. Two suitcases, three pairs of shoes, one iHome, a million cables and chargers and curling irons and straighteners and bobby pins and pearls and sweaters. I'm less excited than antsy. I'm more anticipatory than eager. I'm reading my philosophy intro book and running three and a half miles a day and not wearing any makeup so the humidity doesn't ruin my skin. Of course, I'm eating all my favorite Texan foods before I take off (Chic Fil A, anyone?) so I'm probably gaining weight, but I'm not so much caring. I don't weight enough anyway.

I got in a fight with the guy I'm so eager to please a few days ago, and just made up. Not sure that's relevant, but I feel like telling the world- we're fine again, rest easy.

Reasons to hate Facebook, as compared to reasons to love Chiddy Bang

2011-08-08T14:07:00.000-04:00

So I'm not quite sure if my computer's so old that it disagrees with facebook like senior citizens disagree with loud music or if Facebook's some kind of meth addict, but every once in a while I get that '404- not Found' message when I try to message someone. I give up.

On the bright side of things, I've discovered my happy, tame alternative to Odd Future- happy place, let me introduce you to Chiddy Bang. Something about the rhymes with MGMT and Passion Pit make me feel like I've found my new, racuously ironic Kid Cudi. Holla?

Let's

Slide down the stairs

and let's

Never get back

up.

Stream of Concious Thoughts

2011-08-07T03:48:00.000-04:00

I love how thrilled I can look by life.

So for those who can't read a timestamp, it's about a quarter past two. As in, a.m. I'm having the nicest conversation with the first guy who's understood me on a deeper level than as the bookish closet party animal everyone seems to place me as in months, and I'm feeling like this could be my next Michael. Maybe I can not kiss this one and keep myself a muse, who knows?

As an update on a rather mundane but erratic life, my plane ticket is booked. Flying out of Bush Intercontinental at 7p.m. on August 23rd, for those who want to stalk me and take me away (or more likely, for my own fading memory in a few months. Archives, anyone?). This seems a little bit unreal, although in truth, reality probably makes less sense than anything out of a book. My roommate actually posted about that today- the fact that when crazy shit happens, we all talk about how unreal it is, when it's actually more real than any probably scenario we could think of. Isn't that mind-blowing? I mean, to think.... what we view as ordinary is actually, in fact, the extraordinary. Insane.

Speaking of insane- I think getting ready for college has introduced me to a whole new perception of the personality type crazy. More on that later.

Welcome Back, old friend

2011-08-01T02:04:00.000-04:00

Insomnia. I hate it and love it, all at the same time. My best inspiration always seems to strike when I just can't seem to sleep, yet... there's just something satisfying about laying down to fall asleep and actually having it happen.

I'm not nearly as inspired by my insomnia tonight as I usually am, but god, if the conversation I'm having isn't all-consuming and catastrophically riveting.

Good night, moon.

Indian Celebrations

2011-07-09T19:11:00.002-04:00

I have a new goal for next year to either crash or be invited to at least one serious Indian celebration.

Thoughts on Those I Love Most

2011-07-07T01:45:00.000-04:00

Of course, the requisite post. For each blog I've created throughout my life, this entry has been one of the first created. Don't get me wrong, I'm well aware of the difference between 'love' and 'in love'. As a matter of fact, at the moment, the cynic inside me tells me I love but none at all, save the unquenchable love for my family. Any thoughts on this?

New York City, though, of course. 49 days and counting, quite literally. I packed up my bathroom, have sorted my books, and bought new towels, washclothes, and outfits fit for Central Park and TriBeCa Park. That I can say without fail is something I rather love, and the fact that only 49 days remain between it and myself makes my fingers tingle with excitement. In a non-douchey way, of course.

In addition, although I feel adding him to my 'thoughts on those I love the most' might make me come back later to read this and feel a pang of pain, I can't seem to post this without adding in my latest thing. Well, 'thing' is a funny word for it at this point. After almost three and a half months, two lost phones, two rather traumatic proms and countless wall posts, phone calls, skype stripteases, and mailed cds, I'm still just as enamored by the guy as I was when we first met. His friends give me hell, his roommate rolls his eyes, and his mom wants to marry us tomorrow. I've never really had this kind of... perfection. And yes, I get aggravated with him, for those of you out there who read that with a grain of salt. For every time he makes me grind my teeth, he comes up with the perfect wake-up call, and for every time he forgets what we had just been talking about he knows just what to say when no one else can tell something's wrong. Conclusion, something must be right.

There will probably be more on this later, I'm sure.