Tag Archive: life


Since I started blogging, almost a whole year ago, there as not been one day that I have missed.  Every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday, like clockwork, I have showed up and put something out there for someone, anyone, to read.

Yesterday, for the first time in almost a year, I went AWOL.

I just didn’t show up.

So, for you who were waiting with bated breath, I apologize. Similarly, if you were worried I had died or had been sucked up by my chest (please reference Dane Cook) by aliens, I’m glad to inform you I am just fine.

What happened is that I actually just got swept up in the long, holiday weekend and forgot it was Sunday.

In fact, this weekend is a whirlwind of activity.

I showed up to my dad’s house ready for a weekend of drunken debauchery with friends and family by the pool in his backyard. But what actually happened was that I arrived at the restaurant for dinner like an hour later than I had originally told everyone I would be in town. Only, after I arrived, I promptly informed my dad that I felt like I was going to throw up and then I peace’d out.  I went back to the house where I found a bathroom just in time to puke my guts out. After throwing up nothing but water and bile (and oh yeah, those two or three Advil I took on an empty stomach- I’m an idiot), I ate exactly two and a half saltine crackers and fell asleep for an hour. When I woke up, everyone was arriving back home, with the food I had ordered in hand.

After that, Seneca and I went to bed early and watched some Forensic Files.

Saturday was even more of a blur.  The day lasted for-fucking-ever.

In a nutshell, the rest of the weekend happened as follows: I probably caught cancer from this shady-as-fuck restaurant called Hibachi Sushi Buffet (it was not my choice), hit my face against the bottom of the pool,  actually won a couple rounds of flip-cup, my computer died/broke, we ate our weight in pulled pork sandwiches, Megan accidentally dumped her almost-entirely-full drink in my lap at the bar we went to, Drew and I got into a physical altercation, Megan walked out at 2am with no word to Seneca or myself, both Seneca and I ended up in tears at some point, made weird references to Hilary Duff for no reason, saw Hangover II, and when we were alerted of bad weather we played a rousing game of Life where I pretended I found out I’m barren and will never bear children(LOL), we also watched a fuck-ton of Lifetime (yeah, including William & Kate, the movie), I quoted William Shakespeare to Seneca in a normal conversation, and I fell in the lake again tonight while trying to get in the kayak.

WINS ALL AROUND.

I promise things will go back to normal.

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Here is what I have learned about success:

It’s all about managing expectations.

For example, I try to go first whenever I can when giving presentations in class.  That way, no matter how ill-prepared I may be or how often I fumble over my words or even how lame my powerpoint presentation really is, there is no one to compare it to yet.  Going first allows the presenter to set the expectations for the rest of the presentations and is the one that the rest are measured against.

If I can help it, I never, ever go last.  Going last is simply not an option.  I’m not that much of a douche bag that I will email my professor ahead of time and insist on going first, but I definitely try to be that person that is like, “Oh, yeah, no big deal, I’ll go first if no one else wants to.” You know, all nonchalant.  And when someone else is like “Oh, I want to go first!” (because that always happens- there are always other freaks like me who want to set the bar low) I’m always like *Hulk’d up* NO I’M GOING FIRST, YOU IDIOT FUCK!

Just kidding, I don’t turn green, grow three times my regular size, or bust out of my white (??) shirt and purple pants.  I don’t even shout at my classmates. I simply keep it real and let everyone know what’s up: I must go first.

In life, I finally learned to be that kid at a birthday party to have her gift opened first.  There were far too many times I tried to be that girl whose present was so good it had to be saved for last. You know, that whole save the best for last bullshit.  But what parents don’t tell you and what you learn after birthday party after birthday party is that it sucks when someone else gives the same gift as you- or worse, someone gives a better present than yours.  That is a situation that takes you on a bullet train to Sucktown.

The best time to give your gift is first.  That way, you have the best gift of the day, even if it’s just for a moment.  That’s a moment you can’t get back. And, that way, if there is a duplicate gift situation, you don’t look like a dickhole and you don’t have to sit in the corner and cry because someone gave the same gift you did.  You can know that you have won. (Because winning is really all that matters- ask Charlie Sheen.)

At work, you have to manage expectations too. If you do something really impressive one day that is something that is expected to be repeated, you better believe that you have just set a precedent.  You will be held to that standard from now on.  That is totally fine if you don’t mind working your butt off to constantly exceed expectations and/or consistently perform at a high level.  But if you’re lazy as fuck and it was done on a fluke, then you’re pretty much up Chocolate Creek without a popsicle stick. If you’re lazy as fuck at work and really just want to do the least amount of work as possible, then you should never do anything more than what is expected of you. Because that is the kiss of death for you, and you can no longer be lazy as fuck.

I have finally realized that even dealing with some family drama, it all comes down to managing expectations.  Drew and I have tried (and failed at) the being-sneaky approach- that just ends in tears (including my own). We can’t just lie about our plans and spring them on a certain person at the last minute- a shitstorm of drama explodes out of seemingly nowhere.  We have also tried the let’s-be-really-vague-about-our-plans approach and that just ended in bitterness, shouting, resentment, anger, and, yes, you guessed it, tears (including my own).  Being vague has usually just resulted in having to lie (which we all know I am not good at) and/or just really awful family moments.

So, this time, we are trying the honesty-is-the-best-policy approach.  This approach includes telling both parties exactly what’s up and setting clear expectations for everyone involved. That way, when the time comes to leave, no one is surprised or upset.  I’m psyched about this.

Here’s hoping.

So, my friends, go forth and embrace this managing expectations lifestyle I have adopted.  Share with me your success stories. Or just stories about your childhood birthday parties. I would enjoy that as well.

I’m a catty little bitch.

Obviously, this is not a new realization for me or anything. I’m just putting it out there for you. I’m here for you. ‘Cause I’m also considerate like that. Who knew, right!?

It’s just that I think all these bitchy, judgy things about people and SOMETIMES I even say that stuff out loud.

This is all coming out because of recent events. Lately, my mother and I have been fighting more than usual. I wouldn’t say that we normally fight all that often. I mean, we’re both pretty … verbal… when it comes to being pissed off, so generally things are solved in the moment. When one of us feels wronged by the other, or a disagreement occurs, things escalate quickly. At the same time, though, things are usually resolved and forgotten about after just minutes of screaming our faces blue at each other. It may result in tears but I would say we forgive and forget pretty quickly.

Lately, though,… oh man, it’s been bad. We just yell and say mean things we don’t really mean and then shut down. Nothing gets solved, feelings stay hurt and we get angry. Then we stay angry. And everything we do just eats at us; I annoy the hell out of her with every action and she drives me up a fucking wall with everything she does. This goes on until it just boils over and something snarky comes out and the other one loses her shit.

Being a catty little bitch means that I nitpick and remember the mean things that were said in the heat of the moment that should be forgiven. This means that even after all is said and done, and we’re back to talking and laughing and joking around like always, I can still hear the tiny voice in the back of my head (which obviously belongs to my mother- because good or bad, she’s the one I hear through all the madness) pushing those things we argued about back to the forefront of my mind.

Being a catty little bitch means that I can tap into that part of myself that no one should know is there and say the meanest thing possible in that moment. Because in that moment, it feels good to say it. It feels good to stab the knife in and twist it a little bit. It feels good to know I have earned a reaction, even if it is her heart breaking a little bit. If feels good because in that moment, I won.

The thing is, after that moment passes, I always wish I never would have gone there. I wish I could take it back. I wish more than anything that those words could disolve from her mind and she could un-hear them.

I’ve been a catty little bitch to the woman who gave me life, to the one person on this earth who truly loves me unconditionally. So, I’ve been working on it, because it hurts me too when I hurt her.

And on the eve of my birthday, she deserves a thank you. (And an I’m sorry.) (And an I love you.)

But let’s get real: I’m still gonna hate on people. It’s, like, what I do.

Haterz gon’ hate. Cliches are cliches for a reason; they’re true. Bahahahhaha

I don’t know if any of you guys watched Gilmore Girls, but I’m totally wishing that was real right now.

I just really loved everything about that show.

I feel like I’m a little bit Paris. Completely out of her mind and always just a little bit too much.

Right at this minute, I am facing a conflict.

You know those times when you know what you should do but it’s totally not in line with what you want to do? Like, you know the right path to walk down but the one on the left has balloons and puppies and people cheering your name? It’s really enticing, and it looks like a whooooole lotta fun. So you look at that fork in the road and think, Yeah, that looks waaaaay better than that regular, responsible “adult” decision road. That’s where I’m at right now. I’d rather deal with puppies and alcoholic beverages and cute boys rather than waking up early, no cute boys and responsibility any day of the week.

It’s times like these that make me feel like I need a life coach.

Remember when Paris had a life coach? Okay, so I don’t necessarily want the life coach she had, but it would be nice to have someone right there whose sole purpose was to help me make choices. And build me a craft corner. And tell me how funny, pretty and smart I am all the time.

How does one get a life coach? Paris only got one after she literally lost her shit and went a little crazy…. I don’t really wanna go that far….

Oh, hello.

What’s up?

I’m new here. Not new to blogging (per se) but, like, new to this blog.

See, I blogged here originally, but, for one reason or another, I decided to move my blogging here.

Let’s start fresh, shall we? Let’s be friends. Let’s put the full disclosure rule out there. I’ll be real with you, and you’ll be real with me.

To start off, I’m just gonna outline a few mostly unrelated things about me.

1.) If I start telling a story, I promise I’ll provide a back-story.  I mean, we all know what it’s like when you’re with some people who you don’t know every single little thing about and one person starts telling a story, and the other person totally knows what’s up but you’re sitting there, all awkward and out of the loop, and they just continue on with their story without filling you in on prior, required knowledge to understand the story! You’re totally the odd (wo)man out, and that sucks.  Back-stories are important, friends. I’ll do you a solid and provide that for you.

2.) Sometimes, no matter how hard I try, I’m gonna forget to post stuff here. Sometimes it’s just hard to organize my thoughts enough to feel prepared to post, and sometimes I’m just not gonna feel like it. When times like this happen, and you still feel like you need just an ounce of crazy, there are other ways to fulfill that need. Fear not, I use twitter (more than) frequently, and I also post rando crap to tumblr ’cause it’s sweet.

3.) I get really, really involved in stuff. Not normal stuff like self-defense classes, or church, or friendly games of raquetball, or, like, community events. Ohhhh no, my friends. I get super involved in superficial things, like tv shows and movies. For example, I’ve recently taken it upon myself to re-watch the entire Dawson’s Creek series. I’m on season 2 right now, and it really takes, like, everything I have to not vehemently describe my hatred of Dawson on social networking sites. Oh wait, I’m totally guilty of that. And repeatedly texting seething text messages to my dear friend Erica.

4.) Just when it seems like I’m totally superficial and only care about things that really don’t matter at all (read: that Dawson’s Creek rant above), I’ll come at you hard with stuff that actually matters to me. I’ll sometimes lay my soul out bare for you to browse the wreckage, and sometimes it’ll for no one’s benefit but my own. Life happens, hearts get hurt, and a girl’s gotta get her feelings out. It’s my blog, I make the rules.

5.) Life’s an adventure. My current status is slightly less than ideal but I can honestly say I’m happy. I live upstairs at my grandma’s and she’s a nut (hence the name). I fully intend on sharing the moments that leave me wondering what the hell?! and how is she still alive?! and what was that that she made for dinner that I pretended to love? along with that was so offensive! and get me out of here!

Buckle up, friends. It might get bumpy. 🙂