Something for everyone

I wish I had traveled before going to grad school.

I wish you would dump your douchebag of a boyfriend. He treats you like an animal. No one likes him. I will never like him. And if you stay where you are for him, I won't be friends with you anymore.

I wish you would dump your stupid girlfriend. Nothing against her really, except for the fact that your relationship is at a stalemate and you don't have the confidence to dump her and be on your own for a while. That, and the fact that I think we'd make a much better couple.

I wish your life amounted to more than just some kid you've been dating for a month. I also wish you'd stop texting me about your sex life with him.

I wish you'd fucking pack your shit and move out of Arkansas. Soulmates.

I wish you wouldn't go to Hawaii. But I am happy you get to explore your dreams.

I wish you weren't so goddamn successful. I wish you knew what it's like to struggle, even if just for a short amount of your life.

I wish you had told me to wait, or that this program wasn't exactly for me. I could have done without the 4 months of "where do I go next?", plus the 8 months of constantly feeling inadequate.

I wish you cared more about the Czech Republic, its fashion culture and connection to national identity.

I wish your life was more organized so that you'd be in here by now. I also hope you're not settling, but as long as he's a good guy, I guess it's okay.

I wish you weren't moving. Even though I knew it was inevitable.

I wish you didn't care about being in a relationship so much. You're a lot more fun when you're single.

I wish you cared more about your weight, and what you ate. I wish you'd try fish and eat more chicken, give up the Coke, the candy, the chop meat. I wish you cared more that every day I get worried I'm going to see you drop dead on the subway.

I wish you didn't bitch and moan about your job so much. Yes, you are overqualified in an underpaid, under-appreciated position. But you're the one who always tells that any situation is what you make it. I wish you'd follow your own advice.

I wish you weren't such an asshole to people. People like you whether or not you're an asshole. I also know that deep, down inside, you're not really an asshole. So why do you act like one?

I wish you had just answered my questions.

I wish that you'd call me. There's so much I have to tell you. There's so much you have to tell me.

I wish you'd shower more often. Because then I would consider dating you.

I wish you didn't sound like such a bitch every time something came out of your mouth. You have a wealth of knowledge, people could really benefit from it.

I wish the train didn't "cock-block" me so much, because then we could hang out more. I really like spending time with you guys and doing cultural things.

I wish you'd quite your job. I also wish I understood why you haven't already.

I wish you would just be yourself. It's why I became friends with you in the first place.

Sometimes, I wish you didn't have a girlfriend, even though I like the girlfriend you have right now. I guess really, I wish there were more guys like you out there.

Dirty Hippie

I just need to chill the fuck out, concentrate on myself and get through life so I can do everything I really want to do in life.

Fuck those above me. They don't run my shit.

Everything works out in the end. Even though it's a useless degree, at least it's a degree.

It'll be all right. You'll see.

Tomorrow

Is another day.

Space and Time

I never seem to be in the right one at the right time.

I always meet these guys, see, great guys, guys I really mesh with, creative types with stable lifestyles and big hearts. And it's always the same deal - either I'm leaving, or they are leaving.

I sometimes wonder what it all means...like, does it mean I'm going to be alone for a while, since I can never seem to sit still for very long? Or that I need to work extra hard, chronicle my priorities? You know? Like, if that person means that much, do I drop everything just to be with them? Or do I take care of me first, and the person I'm meant to be with will eventually fall into place? If I'm meant to be with anyone at all?

I've come to the conclusion that long distance does not work unless prior plans are somehow arranged. Take, for example, my sister and her boyfriend. They have never spent more than a month together in the same place, between college and jobs. They've been dating for three years, long distance all through, and it's worked. Why? Because they knew once certain goals were met, that they'd be moving in with each other and starting a life. She's moving in April and as dismayed as I am, I know it's actually going to work for them. It hasn't been easy, but it could have been worse.

Take, for another example, my relationship with Sean 2. We admitted our feelings for each other one week exactly before I was to leave Charleston, potentially forever. The summer before my study abroad, we visited each other twice. Once abroad, things were a little difficult because he didn't like talking over the phone or on Skype, and I was busy anyway. We broke up while I was there because I realized, this is not going to go anywhere. We hadn't been dating long enough to figure out what would happen when i returned - I was in New York indefinitely, and he had a house and a good job in Charleston. Neither of us was keen on being where the other one was. So it had to end.

If we had a plan though, if I was moving back to Charleston or he to New York, or somewhere not even known at the moment, I think it would have potentially worked. We broke up because we weren't going anywhere, not because we stopped liking each other.

And now, there's this kid. Just met him, knew him less than 24 hours, and yet, I want to get to know him more. We had this weird sort of vibe, you know? This connection, things happening happenstance but we were drawn to each other because of it. I like him. I don't even know him, but I know enough for the first stage. He doesn't even live that far away, it could be workable.

Except that he's moving to Hawaii for six months, doing a workshop on transformative photography. After that, he might move back to Philly, or he might get a commission to travel the rest of the world doing what he loves.

I commend him for his efforts. It's not like I can really be upset that he's leaving - he's doing something awesome, something creative, something that has incredible meaning for him and something that is going to help (and possibly) change the world.

I just wish we could have gotten to know each other a little better, is all.

I feel like life throws things like this in our general directions, just to see our reactions. Meet someone you like, have a small amount of time to do something about it, GO! So what do I do?

Try, try as much as I can.

At least it gives me a good reason to visit Hawaii...

Celebrity stalking

Is it weird that the last thing I do before going to sleep is surfing the net for news about Ed Helms?

Yeah.

Didn't think it was.

I am convinced that if we ever met, he'd fall madly in love with me.

Even though I know in REALITY that this would never happen, it does help me sleep at night.

Success

My closest friends will always be more successful than I ever will be.

And eerily enough, I'm coming to terms with that.

Why?

Because ultimately, I'll be the one with more adventures...until said friend becomes Senator but even then, he's no celebrity...whereas celebrities can do anything and get away with it, one public slip-up and you're DONEZO in Politicsville.

Plus, I know people who are doing more meaningful things anyway...not that being a Senator is less meaningful, but you do uphold a certain lifestyle with which your main monetary funds are funneled into RE ELECTION RE ELECTION RE ELECTION. Then what good is it?

I want to be free. I want to be educated. I want to explore, and I want to see places for what they really are...not just some 24hr political front.

Yeah, I'll do alright. I've got good regular friends, and I'm working as hard as I can. Sure, it's shit right now, but I'll be alright in the end. Dennis is the anomaly - everyone else is normal by comparison. He's remarkable, but he's never lead a normal life. He doesn't know what it's like to struggle, he doesn't know what it's like to fail. Some people are just born like that.

Others, experience.

I think the kind of life worth living is the kind you can write stories about. I've got tons of stories, from tons of places, all different and exciting.

Dennis writes letters.

I think, I win.

Never enough TIME

I must clean my room, do my laundry, finish my stitches and probably, I should be doing some research.

I just have no motivation to do ANY of it.

If we lived on Mars, there would be about 682 days in the year. I think we could definitely plan the work week so that there is at least a three day weekend.

Why DON'T we think in terms of a larger, universe time-scheme?

In other news, I'm still in love with Ed Helms.

Always, and forever.

Nice Guys

The problem with nice guys, is that you can't be mean to them.

I'm not really good with relationships. I guess you could say, I'm a bit of a commitment-phobe. I don't have this overwhelming desire to settle down and get married (unless it's for money, then I'll get married right now), and I'm pretty sure that even if I did get married, I'd get divorced. I'm too independent. I'm too selfish. I'm too concerned with my own emotions (handling them, at least) to divide my time into someone else's emotions simultaneously. I don't think I'm capable of loving someone more than I love myself. Hence, why I started this blog.

Except for Ed Helms, of course. I am pretty convinced, that if we ever met, we'd fall in love.

Unless he's gay. In which case, I'm shit out of luck.

But anyway, back to my plight. Usually when it comes to relationships, I am the one who takes the plunge and ends it. This is usually because I am bored, or don't see the relationship going anywhere so it's like, what's the point? I can get SEX whenever I want it, why should I have to put up with the whining and mushiness and uncouthness and laziness and self-reliance...

So in short, I'm a bitch. I'm the bitch who dumped her boyfriend the week before the senior prom. I'm the bitch who broke up with her boyfriend because she wanted to keep herself open to British hotties while studying abroad for the summer in London. And I'm the bitch who broke up with her boyfriend whilst he was being treated for depression for two weeks in a mental facility.

I reiterate. I'm a bitch.

Which is why it feels so bad to be one when nice guys are involved. Because the men mentioned above were not nice. Well, I mean, they were nice, but I never should have dated them. I'm glad I did, because it taught me a lot, but I also kick myself for having the relationships last as long as they did.

Even though I've never really had a relationship that's lasted more than about 8 or so months.

I reiterate. Commitment is a problem for me.

So how do you end things with a guy who is actually really nice and would probably work out, not given the circumstances?

Oh, here are the circumstances:

1) We both live at home. That should have been a red flag to begin with, but I've dated guys who have lived at home before and it hasn't been a problem - we just escape to a bedroom or a basement and no one bothers us. It's usually at their house, because my parents still think I'm 16 and need to abide by the house rules, number one of which is "NO BOYS IN THE HOUSE." This has since been adapted to, "NO BOYS IN THE HOUSE - UNLESS WE'VE BEEN FORMALLY INTRODUCED FIRST", which is a problem as you can see. Because knowing my track record, I won't be with any of these guys for longer than a month or so, so it's not worth introducing and having them think I'm a slut.

So why not go over to his place? He has familial issues too. Although his parents don't seem to mind the presence of female guests (his younger brother had a live-in girlfriend AND her kid), his estrangement from them is enough to avoid bringing anyone over at all costs - even friends. It's understandable, if he's not comfortable with his family, how will I be comfortable? But that leaves us with a second predicament...

2) Neither of us has any money. I make peanuts at the fucking federally generated piece of shit job my parents "encouraged" me to take, and finding a second job seems impossible given my shifting class schedule which revolves mostly around classes during peak working hours. He has a pretty decent job, but his integrity (which I admire and uphold) forces him to pay off his Columbia graduate school student loans, leaving him with enough money to entertain himself, but not another person. Plus, being the feminist that I am, I don't want anyone to feel as though they should pay for me all the time. I like at least knowing that I have money to split the check, not rely on the man to foot the bill.

So being that we don't really have anywhere we can go to hang out, we've succumbed to going out to dinner, to lunch, to the movies - to basically anywhere that draws out time as well as our wallets. I literally cannot afford to date, and soon enough, he won't be able to either.

But even if we had a date, we'd need to get there somehow. Which leads us to the next problem...

3) He doesn't have a car. He lives next to the train station, so why should he have one? Not normally something I give a shit about, except that whenever we want to hang out, I have to pick him up. I don't normally care about doing this either, but sometimes I just don't feel like driving. Because that means driving 15 minutes to get him, however many minutes it takes to get to where we are going, and then 15 more minutes to get home after dropping him off. There are a lot of places I wish we could go, except he has no way of getting there and if I pick him up, it really is out of the way. We try to make plans in the city but again, the money issue comes up. And it's winter, so hanging out in the park is not really an option.

But even if we had our own apartments, even if we had all the money in the world, and even if he had a plane, train and automobile, there is still an even larger problem...

4) Nemám čas. I don't have time. School is back in session, and were once I had full days to do nothing, I now spend my time in school, writing papers or researching. Or worse, commuting. Commuting sometimes adds two more hours - empty hours because I don't have access to a computer or the internet - to my already overwhelming day. My weekends are times when I get shit done because it is nearly impossible to do so any other time. So when the fuck are we supposed to hang out? If I even get a free minute, I usually don't want to do ANYTHING.

So you see, it's not the boy, it's me. Which is what makes it so hard to say "I can't see you anymore." Because there really isn't a problem, it's just stupid little bs things. We have no privacy. We have no money. We have no way of getting to each other. We have no time.

Those are some pretty important things to have when involved with another person. And going back to school has made me realize how little time I really have - not to mention, my entire lack of sex drive. Who can fuck when there is fashion to be written about? I replace masturbation with research, blow jobs with museum visits and couldn't engage in coitus even if I had the energy to do so.

And in my mind, sex is a pretty important part of any relationship.

So how do I break it off? He clearly likes me, says he misses me all the time. Tonight he was like, "so, it's just that you're busy, right? There's nothing else wrong?" and I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Nothing's wrong, except the timing, I suppose. I just don't know how to bring it up without making him feel bad.

I guess, he's going to feel bad either way. He's going to feel bad if I string him disinterestedly along, he's going to feel bad if I end it abruptly. Which one is less painful?

THIS is why I don't like getting involved with other people. Because you have to constantly take into account their feelings

Urination

You ever wish that chamber pots were still around, for when we are too lazy to get out of bed and walk downstairs to take a piss?

That's me, right now.

Weather

I used to be happy. Real happy. I think places change you. Some scientists say that there is this chemical the sun emits, or something like that, and when it's absorbed into your skin and blood stream, you become happier. I don't know, maybe it's true, but I know one thing for sure - there is nothing like sunshine in Charleston, South Carolina.

I used to walk around that city by myself a lot. I used to bike ride a lot too - that's something you can do, when it's nice outside, is sports. There is just something about the way the wind blows, the rustle of the Spanish moss, the orange glow of the setting sun and the way its rays make the water glitter that will never escape my mind. God dammit, if it weren't for South Carolina being such a shit state that it is, I'd never leave.

Just being able to get out, move around, walk down the same pastel streets I always did - dodging tourists, hipsters on bikes, horse drawn carriages and little black kids hawking palmetto roses - I can't do that shit in New York. Or rather, I can't do it on Long Island. There's no where to walk around here. Where am I going to go, the post office? The gas station? Starbucks (but that's an entirely different post in and of itself)?

I like the feeling of humidity and the way it makes my skin glisten with moisture. I like having an excuse to barely wear clothing at all, it's so hot the only thing you can possibly wear is a sun dress and flip flops. Sure, New York gets that kind of weather for, oh say, three months out of twelve.

But Charleston is pure heaven on earth. Where else can you find beach weather in November, alongside fried green tomatoes and boys who pull out your seat at a restaurant (not that I ever DATED those kinds of men...I always seemed to end up with the crazies...but I've seen them down there).

I miss having my fan on and the window open because I was too poor to pay for air conditioning. I'm a believer in all things natural but I can tell you now, Charleston's got the sweetest smelling air around. It's the best right after it rains, when all of the plants and garbage and stuff get pelted with golf ball-sized raindrops and everything kind of just melds together. It's best smelt at 7am on a Sunday, when the sun is rising over the tops of the mansions and you're walking to your job at a church nursery (where you will fantasize about your future southern husband, donning his searsucker suit and stinking of Old Money).

Instead, the only thing that stinks around here is the scent of leather jackets on the subway and the emission of poo-gas from the sewers in the winter time.

I love New York.

But I think I love Charleston more...

Living at Home

I've turned into a lazy, good for nothing fat ass upon my return from the Czech Republic and my assimilation into "normalcy" whilst being forced to live at home due to insufficient funds and parental coddling.

I don't know how any of you feel about Feng Shui, but I am a firm believer in the spirit of a place and how its arrangement affects your mental "chi." When I came home that frosty December night, over-exhausted from jet lag and familial emotional overload, I felt an instant defeat as I crashed in the room I had spent the entirety of my high school career in. Nothing had changed, save for the textiles from other countries I deliberately draped my belongings in (to spruce up the place, to no avail unfortunately...) My bed was in the same place it had always been, my bookshelves still crowded with useless crap...even some of my makeup from high school stared me in the face from my nooked-dresser. Who was I? I felt like I had traveled back in time and was a dependent, spoiled little high school senior once more.

I can't work where I sleep, unless there is absolutely no where else I can work. The clutter that has lasted in my life since I was young prevents me from getting any effective work processed; I don't even have a good place to keep a printer.

My mood has changed drastically. I used to be a very content, mellow person. I used to go with the flow, didn't care what happened so long as I was happy, and I was usually satisfied with whatever happened. I didn't have to deal with conflict too much, because who cared? Now however, I see conflict with everything - what I'm eating for dinner, having to wait outside at the train station, doing the laundry or hanging out with friends. I never used to be a surly, cynical, bitter and overall ugly person - I have changed as such, because of living at home.

I'm also less assertive, and I have developed a sense of entitlement. How, you ask? Because my parents give me anything I need. They give me money when I'm broke. They gave me a car and pay for insurance when I need to go places. They let me come home from the bars shitfaced. The only thing they have a rule for is boys - I can't bring those home. Or rather, I'm not SUPPOSED to bring them home, but I know how to sneak them in and out if I need to. Basically, they have taught me that when you are 22 years of age, why should you have to struggle? Why should you have to build any self-integrity? Go for your dreams, darling, reach for the stars, and we'll be here to bring them down for you if they are too high.

I mean, I suppose it's a good thing that my parents were never the kind to say, "When you turn 18, we're kicking you out of the house, and you're on your own." Otherwise I'd probably be in worse shape than I am. But this whole, "Go to grad school, even though you can't afford it" is a little ridick. Most parents would have said, "Well maybe you should go part time, and get a job to save up money so you can finally be an adult and move out."

Not these parents though. They secretly want to keep me here for as long as they can. I don't know why, but they do.

So, in turn, I have gained weight and am basically useless. Where once I was thin, pretty and independent, I am fat, with a lesbian haircut and the loser who lives at home while everyone else her age is getting on with their lives.

THAT's my point.

Success

My best friend is 22 and is one of 12 people on Hilary Clinton's personal staff. I'm not talking, he fetches her coffee and does her nails - the motherfucker is her personal correspondent. If she needs something written, he does it.

Talk about success, man.

I've always aspired to be famous and successful. My real aim is to make it into a textbook somehow - have kids all over the world read about me, and what I did. Doesn't even have to be something good - maybe I'll kill some people?- but I'd like to not go into obscurity. I think that's my biggest fear, to go unrecognized for my accomplishments. It seems so easy for everyone else to be admired, why not me too?

I don't think people take me seriously, for a couple of reasons. I'm short, so everyone automatically thinks I'm sixteen, and what does a sixteen year old know? I also have short hair, and it is a proven fact that people don't listen to ugly people's ideas. People are far more apt to listen to an attractive person, whether or not they actually believe what they are saying. Take the great head-butters, Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan - no one gave a shit about the latter, but people actually started making changes when Steinem hit the scene.

I'm not very attractive, at the moment. I used to be - I used to be really hot. But then I got this cockamaymie idea to cut my hair like a pixie. It was cool, for a while, until it started growing. I didn't have the funds for the upkeep, so I'm letting it grow out, but it's tough, man. Everyone thinks I'm a lesbian. Lesbians are cool, sure, but it doesn't help you get laid when the small population of men I am exposed to think you are one. I haven't been on a good date in a while. During the whole of 2009, I went on 3 dates. You count 'em, 3. And only one of them was really any good.

I definitely blame it on my haircut. Men are driven by attractiveness - women, security. How am I supposed to lure in a rich, eligible bachelor when they all think I eat pussy?

Back to success though.

I'm not a memorable person either, it seems. This began when I was in high school - I'd get bit parts in the school plays, and when my friends would come to see me, they'd ask, "So who were you?" Despite the fact that American's have the attention span of a fish, I'd say anyone would be able to recognize me if they tried.

College was a bit better, but that's because so many kids did not give a shit that it was easy for me to succeed and get shit done. Still, I was never trumped up enough for scholarships, grants, etc.

Grad school has by far, been the worse. I only have about 5 teachers, and they never seem to remember anything. Or maybe, it's just selective memory because they aren't interested in the things I want to do. They only have about 35 students, mind you, but I suppose that's too many to remember for 5 people. I always have to remind them of what I'm working on, why I want to talk to them, what I emailed them about...it gets annoying after a while. I'm not saying they should know every little thing I do, because I don't want them to. But I hate repeating myself as it is, and you know what it says to me when someone doesn't remember something we are supposed to talk about? That you don't care. I know you must have a million other things you are doing, but at the same time, the things I email you about aren't that hard to remember. And the feeling sucks, big time.

So I've tried to establish myself any way I can. I do things with local societies. I apply for grants. I go out of my way to make extra work for myself in hopes that some day, someone will think "Wow, you are a very successful individual." So far, no dice. I suppose I have a while to go, but even so, the point of being successful for me now is so I can reap the benefits of my success throughout my lifetime.

Because that, ladies and gentlemen, is what I believe true happiness is.

Disclaimer.

I'm not one to really relish in pessimistic thoughts. Rather, I like to take a pro-active approach when things go wrong. Still, there are times when I like to get out my soap box and say the things that no one wants to hear - that people, in general, are stupid, and need to get over their stupid selves.

I have a lot of good advice and a lot of cool ideas that, if people actually used, would make the world a better place.

These tidbits of information rarely go used however, and I feel it is my duty to call others out when they come crawling back, complaining to me about how their lives suck.

Well, my life isn't perfect either, so where can I crawl when times are rough? No where. This is because people don't like to give me the time of day to express my opinion, even though I seem to have all the time in the world for them. Pyschologists don't help - they just say, "You need someone you can talk to, someone to confide in."

So I have created my virtual soap box.

Don't like what you hear?

Go fuck yourself.