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...