Thanks, Friends

I am sitting on my freshly vacuumed floor in my freshly tidied apartment. I'm hot and sweaty from a long, hot day. My cheeks are rosy from spending the last few days in the sun.

I it is so sunny in Seattle. And it is the hottest around 5pm.

The Temptations are singing Ain't too Proud to Beg from my phone speakers. There's a stranded stapler on the ground next to my thigh and my backpack is deflated at my feet. The drawstring of my yoga pants is undone and the cup from a recently consumed milkshake is sitting on my dresser, slowing forming a water ring at its base.

Whole milk. So good. So filling.

Today was almost like any other. It could have easily slipped into the blurred background of my life.

Then I went canoeing with my friend. I could talk about the serenity, the nature, the weather. I felt all that stuff but I didn't think to open my laptop until after I got home and settled in.

I have awesome friends. Awesome Seattle friends. I have awesome high school/ San Francisco/ California friends too. But I have AWESOME friends right here.

It's easy to be like, OMG, I go to school with tens of thousands of people and I see the same 20 friends in a sort of rotation. But that's not really true. Well it is true. But it's not that simple. I am close to a couple dozen people up here and that is EXACTLY okay.

They are awesome. I love them. I hang out with them, I see movies with them, I canoe with them, I party with them, I go dancing with them.

When I think about the people I get to take away (metaphorically) from my college days, I am so pumped. I have a goodly sized (but not giant or unwieldy) group who I want to keep i touch with for the rest of my life.

It's kind of intimidating. I have like... four friends I still talk to from high school. It's hard to keep up with them; those four BRILLIANT ladies. And in a year I will add another couple dozen to the list of friends not in my immediate vicinity.

Gosh.

You guys, we've got a year. Let's do it right. You make college unbelievably fulfilling!!!

Pushing Through

I'm pushing through you guys.

It's happening. I just finished applying for this thing. So far I have blown off my Italian homework that is due tomorrow.

Instead of doing yet another insane amount of Italian homework tonight I pushed through some of this negative emotion.

I woke up this morning still riled up. I had too much coffee on top of the extra bad juju. This only meant that for 3.5 hours of Italian I squirmed in my seat, head jumping from topic to topic, in and out of Italian.

I sat in the sun for my 30 min lunch break and ate an apple. There is something cathartic about eating an apple. There's a CRUNCH that always feels good. Not like eating a banana or grapes or an orange. Apples fight back. You've accomplished something by finishing an apple.

I got to work and discussed the different merits of diaper cakes. Yes. That's a thing. Google it. It's not as gross as it sounds. Then I really got working. Woof.

2.5 hours later and I was out the door to a hair appointment. The glories of a haircut have been often chronicled in this blog. I love getting haircuts. Someone shampooing your hair, massaging your head and then clipping away all the excesses of your life.

I could feel my troubles being snipped and my worries being scattered on the floor.

$30 later and I felt fabulous. A new woman. I walked home, the dozen or so blocks, with a spring in my step. A short man with a sombrero even puckered his lips at me--which made me laugh out loud. I will never understand some people.

I got home and took a lot of very vain pictures of myself. Peacocking if you will.

It wasn't a great day, I'll be honest. But it ended better than it began and that's all I can ask for.

I am pushing through this. Tomorrow I will get up. 3.5 hours of Italian. 2.5 hours of work. Canoeing with the roommates. Surprise adventure with my friend.

Things are looking up. I'm looking ahead. I'm keeping busy. I'm doing what I want to do, when I want to do it. I've been eating better. I've been exercising more. It's going to be okay. I'm going to be okay.

Green Day Day

Most people have different music for different occasions. You can't listen to the same music all the time. Some days are Michael Buble days and some days are Ozomatli days. Today is a Green Day Day.

I started the day thinking it was a Fitz and the Trantrums day. It wasn't. When I went to the gym I thought it was a Pitbull day. Still not right.

Then. THEN. FUCKING THEN. I realized. It was a fucking Green Day Day.

It's never a good day when it is a Green Day Day. Since the sixth grade, and my parents can attest to this, Green Day Days have been historically angsty and moody.

Today I thought was a good day and up beat day. Secretly, it was an angsty and moody day.

Let me tell you, I don't hate a lot of things. Most things are great. Most things are neutral to positive things. But there are a couple things that rank high on my hate list.

These things cause Green Day Days:

1. Lies
2. Cowardice
3. Germs
4. Public bathrooms
5. Paying for parking
6. Paying for water
7. Chris Isaac

There are a few other things that make the list but my rage has blinded me. And in any case only one thing bothers me today.

Let's talk about cowardice. Hey, I'm a coward. I'm afraid to eat things off of my own kitchen counter (germs). I'm afraid of sitting on public toilet seats. I get it. Some things scare the shit out of me. Dying of a food borne illness is way up there.

And people, some people are scary. I was scared shitless of my choir teacher in high school. I was a total coward when it came to talking to Mr. Toland. And I've had other teachers and bosses that I was wary of.

So, yeah, I can be a coward. I'll admit that right before I say:

I hate cowards.

If you want something, take it. Or at least ask for it. If you want to say something, say it. Or at least clear your throat. If you want someone, tell them. Or at least show it.

If you do not, then two things happen:

1. I deem you a coward
2. I move on

--

I tell my roommate, when she gets rejected by a guy, He's allowed to not like you. It sounds harsh. But it's true.

Several months ago my friend was dating this guy and she told me that she didn't know if she really liked you and I said, You're allowed to not like him. That is absolutely true.

And this GUY-- he's allowed to not like me. I accept that. All he needed to do was say, "Hey, I don't like you." Boom. So easy.

Instead I got radio silence. And through the silence I heard a whisper of a word: Coward.

Look, I'm single. And I'm having trouble accepting that, enough as that is. I was talking to my roommate about this and her response was, Well who is out there that you want?

Good question. It stumped me, because she's right. I can scroll through my phone and I can click through my facebook, and no offense but. Uh. Or, rather, eh.

But then here was my response: I am single involuntarily. If guys were throwing themselves at me, I could say YES or NO. Because I'm allowed to pick.

If it weren't me, I would think it was FUCKING HILARIOUS how often I DON'T get asked out. And every time I say that to someone they're like "NO WAY!". WELL, FUCK YOU. You know how NOT comforting it is to hear, "But you are sooooo funny/pretty/hot/nice/eligible"?? It's absolutely USELESS.

It's great that I'm funny, but clearly NOT ENOUGH. It's great that I'm pretty, but CLEARLY NOT ENOUGH.

Not enough to trump whatever cowardice is in men who meet me.

I don't care how much of a coward you are, admit it, you would ask out Emma Watson in a heart beat. Because she's AMAZING. And you could be shy or inadequate or whatever but you will ask the shit out of her.

I might be amazing. Maybe. I could buy that. But what am I supposed to think when I get no one, for miles around, who even has the slightest inkling of asking me out?

If you are out there in the world and you like someone FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE PLEASE TELL THEM. On behalf of all the people who never get asked out, please ask them out. Because you like them and they are allowed to like you or not like you but you take away that choice when you ignore them.

So here we are. Angsty, moody, single, and looking. Open hearts are often lonely hearts, especially when they are empty.

Chicken and Egg

I had a weird... couple of days. Let's say from around 8PM July 4th to right now at this very moment.

Let's start at 1PM July 4th. My ex-Roommate, who is still refer to as my roommate, to everyone's confusion, picked me up and drove me to her house. I had not seen her in quite some time and her birthday recently passed. To make a long story short we had a great time catching up. Then it was time for her to drop me off.

When I got up to my apartment, about 8PM, I was suddenly very alone. Both of my roommates, who are actually my roommates, were gone to their respective family's house for Independence Day. That's fine, I had resigned myself to an evening on my own. I watched TV and did homework until the fireworks started.

I had been sitting on my couch watching TV when I heard the first firework. Then I turned around to face my window. I watched fireworks from my apartment. My living room overlooks lake Washington. In the distance I can see the Space Needle and Mount Rainier. They shoot fireworks from lake Washington and I saw them all. From my couch. I didn't have to sit in traffic, I didn't have to wade through crowds, or save my spot, or deal with drunk people. I got to sit on my couch with the TV playing in the background, a glass of juice, and my whole kitchen 5 feet away.

I was overwhelmed with gratitude. When will I ever experience anything quite like that? Who gets to experience that? It is not often that I notice once in a life-time experiences. They happen more often than I recognize, I'm sure of it, but this one slapped me across the face. I was glad the firework show ended when it did, any longer and I would have probably started balling. I mean, happy, joyous, overwhelmed balling, but balling nonetheless.

It ended like all fireworks shows must, like everything in life must, and I went back to watching Torchwood. Yet another nerdy TV show I have started in the last year. Too many to count.

On Friday I went back to the daily grind. I have Italian class for 3.5 hours in the morning and work for 2.5 hours in the afternoon everyday. Everyday. And sometimes after that I work out.

I did not work out on Friday, yesterday. I wanted to work out, honestly, because to be frank I feel like a fat fuck. Or, to put it in a more appropriate way, I have had pretty fucking low self esteem lately. I know it is normal to be, like, normal. I know it's okay to gain weight, especially as you grow older. I know when I do gain weight it just fills out my already curvy body. I know you can't tell or don't care or don't think it's a bad thing. I know all this. I can actually look outside of myself well enough to comprehend. But I feel fat. No I don't feel FAT like obese or overweight. I feel fat as in, could be skinnier. I feel fat as in, have been skinnier.

Instead of working out I met a girl who might move in to my apartment in September when one of my roommates studies abroad. She's nice, but then again they all have been. I am the queen of roommates. Bridget, Madeline, Katy, Alexandra, Laura, Julia, Alex, Emily, Bailey, Hannah. Some have been better (Bridget) than others (Laura). They know this. I know this. It doesn't matter if I'm A+ compatible with a roommate. Because after TEN roommates, I know, whatever differences you have. It won't last. I have lived in five places in the last three years. One dorm hall, another dorm hall, an apartment in Rome, an apartment in Seattle, and home. I don't leave. They do.

This girl I met, she was nice. One of the nicer ones, if we are frank. Not that nice means good or compatible. But having a nice roommate is, coincidentally, very nice. It's so easy.

Nice. I told people this guy I had met was nice. It was a great word for him. Nice fit him well because it could include caring, interesting, funny, smart. But it didn't have to. He was nice. He was, but I don't see him anymore. Oops, we're facebook friends so I hope he's not a reader. I'm sure he'll be very nice about it if he is.

After she left I made dinner. Oh my good lord did I make dinner. I never make dinner. And I drank wine. I never drink wine. And I watched half an Italian movie and more Torchwood, which apparently I have started doing more often. And then I drank more wine, because, heck, I had half a bottle and both my roommates were gone.

By the time my roommates both had returned I was tipsy and melancholy, several episodes deep into Torchwood. Once I was several glasses of wine deep into my evening, I really didn't realize how lonely I was. I had been lonely with out my roommates and now they were home and I was still lonely. And tipsy. And in love with yet another nerdy fictional character.

I woke up hangover-less which I thanked God for, since I get the worst white wine hangovers.

Today was a low spot. I did nothing, which is always a dangerous thing to do. I read, I slept, I did Italian, I went and bought another bottle of wine, I cooked, I ate, I went to the movies. I did nothing. And all day I have been in a funk. A big, lonely, funk.

After I got home from the movies, about an hour ago, I was hell bent on finding an answer. Why am I in such a funk.

Dual reasons. In no particular order: I am bored. I am lonely. I think they are in fact connected. One may have even cause the other. I do not know if my boredom caused my loneliness or my loneliness caused my boredom but suddenly I am trapped with twin specters haunting my life.

Boredom and loneliness. The two worst human conditions for a smart, young, energetic person. Boredom and loneliness sap me of my creativity, my ambition.

They are worse than being sad. I'm not sad. I'm actually quite content. No one has done me wrong. I'm doing well in school and work.

But boredom and loneliness are the worst kind of bullies.