Well, I guess this is about my life or something?

Long time, no blog, world. How's it been going? Oh, me? I'm great, thanks for asking. Well, great might be the wrong word. I think the word I was looking for was stressed-beyond-belief-about-the-future-and-slowly-dying-from-homework-and-the-mundane-routine-of-my-daily-life. That seems more accurate.

One of the best moments of my boring life in the past few weeks is that I finally said something I've been thinking for years in my mind. My friend tied his hoodie around his waist and I compared him to a middle school girl who had just gotten her period for the first time. It is kind of sad that this is the first thing I think of to mention in my blog, but oh well.

Really though, life has been pretty stagnant. I find myself wishing that something would happen even if it were something bad. 

The thing I like the least about myself is definitely my inability to handle stress. I went to an internship meeting the other day and realized something: it would really help in choosing an internship if I knew what I wanted to do with my life. Then there was the huge stack of study-abroad application papers that I got.

Also, I live in a frat house without living in a frat house. I'm pretty sure someone just opened their door, screamed, "WOO!" and then shut it again.

Oh, I guess one sort of interesting thing is that I didn't talk to my best friend turned boyfriend turned ex (Luke) for a week so we could both have some space. That sucked, but it forced me to create something sort of interesting. Since my relationship with him relies so much on us telling each other virtually useless things I decided to make a list of every useless thing I would have told him.

Here is some of the list:

Useless Things I Would Have Told You

I enjoy other people’s misery, and my own in a way, but you already know that.

My arms really hurt, but it is kind of nice knowing that my muscles are getting worked on again since I’ve been a lazy ass.

Ponyo keeps sitting on her brother.

I saw a Nietzsche thing and thought of you.

I’m starting to feel safe in my room.

I am the same color as my desk in my English class.

I’m getting ahead on homework because I have no friends.

I spilled some baking soda today.

I am pretty sure we own more towels and sheets than a linen store.

Why would anyone ever need this many sheets and towels?!

I had such a one-track mind today. It was the first time I felt genuinely busy and focused in a while and I was tired after carrying so many boxes.

I hate air mattresses. They give me motion sickness. Life gives me motion sickness.

Saying you feel nauseous is actually incorrect because to be nauseous is to make other people feel sick, instead you should say I feel nauseated with you feel sick to your stomach.

I miss my old house. Roots are important, but how you grow and where you end up is important too. But roots get you there. (ROUTES, haha I’m hilarious)

I discovered a new band called Good Old Wars (well new as in I’ve had one song by them for a long time and I finally started listening to more stuff by them.) They sound sort of like Guster. This is so me, mentioning an obscure band and then comparing their sound to another obscure band. 

The phrase “Bear with me” is so strange. It’s like, let’s be bears together, k? Or bare with me? Get naked with me? I am going to start using that as a pick-up line. I think it will be very successful.

I was jokingly singing along with “Mine” by Taylor Swift, but for a second I actually felt connected to what she was saying, like I felt my heart getting this warm feeling. Then I felt ashamed.

I can’t listen to any song about having romantic feelings for a friend. (“If She Wants Me”-Belle and Sebastian “Are we lovers or are we friends?”- Acid House Kings “Undeclared” –The Dodos)

I always crave pizza at night ever since I had a sleepover with my friend and we watched Miss Congeniality. There’s this scene with a glow paint club where they eat pizza and some chick barfs it all up, but I still wanted it. Vomit doesn’t deter me from pizza. I think that’s a pretty good summary of myself as a person.

I’m downloading my first audiobook for the drive home and thinking of you.

Is this really the right thing to do?

I was annoyed with you today. I didn’t feel any romantic feelings for you, just mild annoyance/friendship. At least I think that’s what I felt. Maybe I need more time to figure out how I feel.

It’s astounding how alone a person can feel.

I love what James Baxter from Adventure Time stands for: just being happy because of something so ridiculously simple and silly.

I love what Vince said about how life is learning to play cards with your demons. That is why I tweeted it because I know you sometimes stalk me. This is my roundabout way of trying to communicate with you.

When I see that you’re online it kills me a little bit inside. Your green dot on Facebook chat is taunting me; it’s like “Hey! Your best friend is online! Talk to him!” But I can’t.

I kept looking over to you during Bo Burnham because I wanted to see your reactions. (Especially for the T.S. Eliot line).

This really is hard. I keep picking up my phone to text you. It’s like a nervous tic.

I still can’t believe you drove so many miles to see me over the summer.

I miss us. I miss laying on my floor talking about random things while I put plastic snack bowls over my face and was amazed at how the light appeared through them. Everything was simple when we were just best friends.

It’s worse at night when there are no distractions and I know you are still awake like me.

I want classes to start again so I have things to keep me busy and distracted.

I have that feeling in the back of my throat like right before you need to cry, but instead it is just a permanent feeling and I can’t cry. It’s like some force is pressing down on my chest, or like a hole is being dug into my heart. Wow, that seems so dramatic, but that’s what it feels like.

I miss the banter. I could be a real sap and read through our thousands of facebook messages (and analyze when you had feelings for me, etc.), but I’m not going to do that. I need to be stronger than that.

I keep having this recurring thought that a certain amount of self-doubt is really important.

I just had a flashback of last year. We were in the library together and you were talking about how you had your special study carrel that you always sat at, and that I usually sat at the one next to it and you called me your best friend. I miss that so much.

I found a hat that my grandma knitted for me. 

It sort of doesn’t feel like a day when I don’t talk to you (and I mean REALLY talk to you, not the small talk/awkward Bo Burnham concert interactions we had)

I probably shouldn’t have snapchatted you but I’m glad that I did because I miss you.

I can’t focus on my homework and I’m afraid to go to the library because I think I will see you there and I can’t handle small talk with you right now.

I saw a cat vest today that was made of the same material as your cat blanket. It even had cat buttons. I was so close to buying it.

I bought a man sweater from Goodwill for three dollars. Retail therapy.

I ate Chipotle and a donut to make me happy. It helped for a bit.

I want to reconnect with old friends. I feel so distant from everyone.

I have a blanket in my car that my mom bought for you, but I thought it would be awkward to give it to you now so it is just sitting there waiting. It’s kind of like me. I’m waiting in the trunk to be your friend again.

Have you ever noticed that when you hold a banana it fits perfectly in your hand? The same goes for the salt and pepper shakers in Hamwill.

The Latin word for to threaten is the same as to stick out, like sticking out your penis to use as intimidation.

Writing activity

My grandma is taking a writing class so today my family and I tried to complete her assignment. The assignment was to use all of these words in a story:

Rational
Mental
Ambivalent
Apprehensive
Main Library
Exercise
Hurricane
Cowboy
Charming
Gorilla
Stock Market
Emergency
Exaggerate
Rheumatism
Eat
Happiness

Here is my result. I'm hoping to edit it soon because I wrote it really quickly.

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.