The Diary of a Sick Girl: Bras, Gatorade, Tips, and Makeup

"To live is to experience things, not sit around and ponder the meaning of life." -Paulo Coelho, Aleph

So I just finished Aleph by Paulo Coelho. I loved it and I recommend anything written by him. I don't want to give too much of it away, but if you enjoy stories about past lives, or just about life's purpose in general then you'll like it (pretty much if you are a living human being, you'll appreciate some part of this novel).

Unfortunately, I got sick on my birthday. Sinus infection. Body aches and misery. Blegh. Yeah, you get the gist. This of course means that I've been quarantined in my house (more specifically my bedroom) for around 48 hours. Being cooped up indoors can do odd things to your mind. For instance, I hadn't talked to anyone all day and my mom comes into my room holding a strapless bra. Thus this scene plays out:

"Julia, what did you want to do with this? It was in a bag in the laundry room,"

(Silence as I try to comprehend that a person in speaking words to me.)

"Julia, do you want this?"

"Yes. This, I believe is good."

There was a pause, and then we both started cracking up. Apparently I truly believe in this bra and its goodness. I couldn't formulate thoughts into words and told my mom that this is what happens after I don't talk to anyone all day.

Another instance such as this happened on a road trip. My family and I were stopping at a Subway and I had just woken up from a nap. When I say just woken up I mean that my eyes were still half-shut and I am pretty sure my body forgot how to move properly, since I stumbled through the door to Subway like a drunkard. My mom turned to me and asked if I wanted a drink, or if I would just drink something we already had in the car. There was a long silence.

Then, I said in a breathy voice, "Gatorade is great."

I shook my head and then asked, "Wait, did I just say something?"

We both cracked up. I meant, "Gatorade is fine," as in I don't need a drink, but it just came out weird. This is probably one of those moments where you had to be there for it to be funny. There should be a word for those. I'm going to call it a Gatorade moment just for the sake of the story. I have a lot of Gatorade moments in my life.

This next story isn't a Gatorade moment, however it does involve my oblivious stupidity. I was with my tennis team at Penn Station after a match. We were ordering subs and I was really hungry as always. (Fun fact about me: I love food and eating). So yeah, I was just paying for my sub (a Club with smoked ham, oven-roasted turkey, apple-smoked bacon, swiss, lettuce, tomatoes, sweet tangy honey mustard and mayo...god my mouth is watering just thinking about it) like normal when I noticed something odd. 

After I had given them my money I expected to get change back, but when I looked at the counter all I saw was this small styrofoam cup. I peered in and saw a few dollar bills and some coins. Weird, I thought, why did they put my change in this stupid little cup? I shrugged it off and placed the cup on my tray. I walked over to a table where some of my teammates were sitting and sat down.

We were eating, when out of nowhere, my friend Maggie points at the cup and asks, "Hey Julia, what's that?" 

I prepared to explain about the cashier putting my change in the cup, but then I read a tiny word written in black sharpie that made my heart race, "TIPS." 

"Oh my god!" I said as I ran the cup back to the counter. I garbled out some apologies and such to the employees, but I'm pretty sure they just thought I was some insane person who escaped the nearest asylum. 

So yeah, basically I'm a tip jar thief. Hide your jars, hide your boxes, she be stealin' all them tip containers up in here! Sorry, I'm in a weird mood. Being cooped up causes cabin fever in my insides, making me have weird thoughts like what if all of this is a dream and I'm really Beyoncé.

Unrelated, I just talked to my friend about makeup and I feel like having a rant, so let me have one world! I don't like wearing makeup. I think that it is a waste of money. I'm not good at applying it (especially on other people) and mascara gets in my contacts and makes life horrible. I don't like how some people won't leave their house without makeup on. I mean, if you're wearing enough makeup to where you look like a whole different person without it on then you're doing it wrong. Just ask Aunt Becky from that one episode of Full House when she teaches DJ how to put on makeup (shout out to my fellow 90's kids who get this reference). 

Sure, I'll wear some makeup for special occasions like weddings or dances, but every day is just too much. Maybe if I liked putting it on or was particularly good at it I would wear it more often, but for me makeup is just too much of a hassle and too much of a hazard for my poor eyes. Really, having a tiny particle of mascara on your contact is like having a crazy psycho man stab you in the eye repeatedly. Okay, so I've never actually experienced that firsthand so I can't really make the comparison, but I assume it would be about the same sensation.

My sick ramblings are over peeps. Peace out.

Also here is a response to the quote at the beginning, since I want this post to be full-circle like Coelho's books. I would really like to be out experiencing life right now and not just pondering it, BUT I'M SICK. Moral of the story: being sick crushes dreams and makes people sad. I hope I've enlightened you with this new information. Wash your hands fools. G'night.

This is my daughter Suicide and poop is divine.

So the other night my friend Luke and I were talking about random stuff, some of which was amusing and some of which made absolutely no sense at all. At one point in our conversation we pondered a rather odd "what if." What if instead of naming children after other important people in our lives we named them after the important person's cause of death? This is my son Dysentery. Oh and here is my daughter Suicide and my other son Old Age. (I don't know why but the genders immediately came to me when I thought of the names.) At the time we both cracked up at how horrible, morbid, and inappropriate it would be to name a child Suicide. Of course, it was about 4am when we had this discussion so our capacity for saneness (which is low to begin with) was about the size of a thimble.

A few nights ago, as I was drifting off to sleep I had this strange thought about the saying "holy shit" that just had to be written down. Instead of sleeping, like I should have been doing (as it was past 3am), I couldn't stop thinking about why we say holy shit. Why is it that when we don't believe something we begin to praise shit? Is it because it makes a good fertilizer? Is it simply the strong contrast between two completely opposite things that makes the saying so potent? It was such a strong, persistent thought in my mind that I had to get out of bed and blindly shuffle around my room to find my phone. Even with my lack of contacts, and my -4.75 vision I was able to locate it and make this very important note on my iPhone, "Holy shit- when poop becomes divine." This is what smart phones are for ladies and gentlemen. Forget texting or taking pictures of friends and family. The true smart phone user knows that smart phones are for noting random thoughts about poop and its divinity.

Graffiti

Vonnegut Quotes

 

Vonnegut

     I can honestly say that Vonnegut is the author who has changed the way I view the world the most. His humanist viewpoint altered my perception of...well pretty much everything. I wish more than anything that I could have met him in person. (WHY DID HE HAVE TO DIE FALLING DOWN THE STAIRS?!) If you haven't read a Vonnegut book I strongly urge you to do so. My favorite is Cat's Cradle, but I also really love Breakfast of Champions and Slaughterhouse Five.

     Senior year of high school in my AP English class we had to write an author study paper. It was basically just a ten-page paper comparing three books by one author. I know that you might not be interested in reading this, but I think it is one of the best literary analysis papers I have written so I thought why not share it, while also sharing my favorite author in the process.

Here is the paper. I hope you enjoy it.

Cleaning, War, and Pokemon

I've been cleaning out my room because my family is moving soon and I've stumbled upon some really entertaining things. First a metal slinky that I played with for an embarrassingly long amount of time. I ran into my mom's room, "LOOK WHAT I FOUND!" She laughed at me. I don't know why. I love the clanky sound it makes as you slink it back and forth. It's quite soothing in an odd sort of way. 

I found a LOT of writing that I did in grade school. I swear, I never throw anything I've ever written away. #writerproblems Oops I just hashtagged on my blog. That literally does nothing here. Now I am ashamed.

Anyway, I have found SO much stuff I've written in the past and it has provided much amusement. For instance here is a poem I wrote in the fourth grade about Thanksgiving:

I am thankful for everything. 

The moon, the sun, and thanksgiving. 

The stars, the sky, the food I eat. 

My dog, my clothes, and my favorite treats. 

My house, the world and life. 

Holidays, water, and my pocket knife. 

But the thing I am thankful for most...

more than anything...

would have to be...

my family!

I love the line about my pocket knife. I remember being so excited about my pocket knife in the third grade. In fact, I had sort of an obsession with useful items you could keep in your pocket when I was young. I remember I specifically asked for a pocket watch for my birthday. My mom got me a silver one with my name engraved on it. I loved holding it feeling its pulse. It was like a heartbeat. I would hold it to my ear to hear the steady ticking. I put it in my pocket, loving the way the chain looked as it hung and clipped to my belt loop. Maybe it was my suppressed desire to be a gangster, or maybe I just appreciated feeling like I was special. I wasn't just Julia anymore. I was Julia, the girl with a silver chain hanging from her pocket. 

Speaking of small, shiny objects you keep in your pocket, I also had a harmonica when I was young. I have a renewed appreciation for my mother and her patience after hearing my neighbor practice his recorder outside. Wind instruments played by children create sounds that should never be heard by the human ear. I think instead of wars we should just trap our enemies in a room full of third graders practicing the recorder. Now THAT would be hell.

Actually, there are so many better ways to deal with conflict than war. There is a quote from either The Sun Also Rises or All Quiet On the Western Front that fits what I want to talk about perfectly, but alas, I cannot find it. It discusses how there should just be cage matches between military leaders instead of throwing in a bunch of drafted soldiers who don't really care about what they are fighting about. So many innocent lives could be saved if there those in charge just battled it out.

A better alternative of course would be for Pokemon to be real. That could save a LOT of lives. In fact, I wrote an essay about Pokemon for school. Here it is:

The World in My Gameboy

            Ever since I can remember video games have been a part of my life. When I was young my family and I would play all sorts of video games: Donkey Kong, Yoshi’s Island, Mario Party and Super Smash. But my favorite was always Pokémon.

As I grew older I started to look at Pokemon as more than just an enjoyable game. I began to view it as a way of life. I believe that if Pokémon were real the world would be a better place. Now I know what you are probably thinking; Julia is such a nerd, and why would she ever believe in something as ridiculous as this? You’re right about one thing; I am about as nerdy as you can get. But I truly believe that this is a perfectly reasonable idea.

If Pokémon existed the world would be less violent. Instead of malicious, destructive wars between humans there would be respectful, civilized battles between Pokémon trainers. The better trainer would win, but the losing trainer wouldn’t have lost anything but his own pride. Pokémon do not die in battle; they merely faint. A simple trip to the Pokémon Center revives them. This method of setting disagreements would result in a more peaceful, loving world.

There would be less pollution if Pokémon were real. Instead of driving cars people could fly on their Pokémon to get from town to town. And if you needed to get across a body of water, no problem, you would simply teach one of your Pokémon how to surf. In the Pokemon games, people ride their bikes or walk everywhere. This would not only make the air cleaner, but it would also help to fight obesity. Pokémon would make this earth a healthier place to live.

By caring for their Pokémon and creating unbreakable bonds with them, people would learn to love and respect all creatures. They would realize that they are not superior; that all living creatures are created equally. The sense of competition between trainers would motivate people to be the best they can be. The only way to become the best trainer is to work together with your Pokemon, not to order them around.  By training and loving Pokemon people would learn that through hard work and a kind heart you are rewarded. It is this love and perseverance that would make the world a much better place.

Not only would people learn to love their Pokemon, but they would also learn to love one another. Trading Pokemon and having friendly battles with other trainers would help build strong friendships. There are so many Pokemon contests and gyms which would bring people together from several different regions. In the Pokemon games, everyone is very trusting of one another. Their doors are always open and Pokemon are always allowed inside. Pokemon would bring people together.

As you can see, I am a nerd. I spend my time daydreaming about what the world would be like if Pokemon were real. But the more I think about it, the more I believe in it and the more I wish the real world was like the world in my gameboy.

---Well I sure got off topic quickly. Hope you didn't mind getting a glimpse into the inner workings of my mind.

James Franco Adventures

Well my parents are gone for 6 days. This obviously means that I should take several photos of a small cutout of James Franco since I have the house all to myself.

But really, I am looking forward to spending these next 6 days alone. Introverts unite! (Except not, because that kind of goes against introvertedness.) Hopefully I will have more time for blogging, writing, and randomness than I usually do. 

Wigged no part

Live 
also design 
label win thou racks 
courts lauding skills 
opens obeyed 
wigged no part

Skald garb slabs kebab

When suffer slab is alcove 
lending sons artful 
skewed down 
making disgrace and 
skald garb slabs kebab

More autocorrect poetry!

Varies 
when blades slow posh 
haft java be woman 
men eggs 
legwork dive 
hue keen 
and apparel will suit