"I have work. Then a dinner thing, and then I am busy trying to become who I am." - Hannah, Girls

Sunday, July 31, 2016

Yesterday I woke up late, showed up to work still drunk, and have a large red mark on my face.

Friday night was my friend's birthday and shocker: I drank too much. 

I was a sloppy drunk too many times sophomore year. I encourage drunkenness, but not drunkenness to the point where friends have to take care of you. I've had to be taken home way too many times in the past year. At a certain point, it wasn't a mistake. I was just being selfish. I was being a bad friend.

I don't want to be the person that people have to take care of. I want to remember the moments from last night, instead of having people tell me what happened. I'm hoping that junior year will be different from last year. I want to keep my shit together. But then Friday happened.

Most nights I've gotten super drunk, I was trying to be wasted. I would decide "I'm getting super fucked up tonight." I wasn't even trying to get super drunk on Friday, it just happened. 

And I hate myself for it. It was a brown out, not a black out. It wasn't the worst night I've had. Anything is better than the first football game last year (that will forever be the worst night).

Here's a run down of Friday:
I had an IPA at my friend's house. We took an Uber to another girl's house. I had some Franzia in a mug and from a hollow bat playing dizzy bat. I played beer pong with Pinot Noir (ew bad choice). I snorted a line of a crushed up caffeine pill from a dirty one dollar bill. Classy. We took and Uber to another party. I talked to a boy that comes into where I work. I have no idea what I said to him. I hope he doesn't come in when I'm working. We started walking to a bar. I started running. I was taken home. My Sweaty the Sober Subletter saw me super drunk and possibly naked sleeping in my bed.

What I learned from other people:
The large red mark on my face was because I fell. That's probably where my right leg was hurting too. The boys we were with didn't see me sloppy. I'm not sure if I believe my friend when she told me that. But I hope she's telling me the truth because those boys have seen me sloppy, know I'm sloppy because of a boy they live with (said boy took care of me at the first football game), and they will probably tell that boy I am still sloppy. 

And I'm over being sloppy. It's not cute to be sloppy. It's not attractive to be desperate.  

Actually confused about what people do with their time

I'm genuinely confused about what people do from day to day. I feel like I spend my days exercising, working, eating, or watching tv. If I'm not doing one of those things, then I'm bored out of my mind. I have a list of things I need to do: hang up my pictures, hang up my lights, get my sister's birthday present together, go to my academic advisor, etc. I should do all of those things.

But still, what do people do with their time. I'm actually confused. I could do some sort of craft I guess, but it's so hard to get started. Ugh.

What did I do with my time before I worked and started exercising? Like what did I do every summer in high school? I wasn't running, working, or hanging out with friends. I guess I watched a lot of tv???

I have never felt so unproductive and bored and confused in my life what do people do with their time???!?!?!

Sunday, July 24, 2016


I love/hate video games. They're fun and a waste of time. They can keep me from making memories with a real human, but also I look back on my virtual conquests with fondness.

Alas, the saga of my gaming continues with Pokemon Go. But first, let's take time to reflect on my video game past.

I don't remember the first video game I ever played at home. It was probably some variety of Mario. Or maybe it was that game where you shoot the ducks with a fake gun. ACTUALLY scratch both of those. My family had this amazing gaming system where you could race cars. No, not Mario Kart. The game had controllers that were real life-sized steering wheels. They had actual break and gas pedals. That may have been my first game ever.

Since the beginning of my gaming career I've played on Nintendo 64, Playstations, Dreamcast, Gamecube, Gameboy Color/Advance/SP, Nintendo DS, Xbox, Wii, and wow we spent a lot of money. It was money well spent though. Except Dreamcast has always been a little weird to me.

Growing up, my mom would take us to Blockbuster every Friday after school. We all got to pick something to rent. My brother always got a video game. My sisters and I usually got movies. I've always liked video games, but obviously not as much as he did (and still does).

My brother is the gamer in the family. He has beaten and collected the most games over the years. He likes all video games: from Zelda to Spyro to Sonic to Mario to COD and everything in between. I play some, but not all, of the games he plays. And he never plays the more "girly" games that I occasionally play.

My video game life has different chapters, but some are longer than others. I remember spending hours playing Supersmash Bros with my sister. I sat on our corduroy bean bag and played every Paper Mario. I played Sly Fox 3 over and over again because it was better than the first two. I took my golden retriever on Nintendogs for countless walks. I've been addicted to several video games over the years, but the most addictive of them all is MMORPGs.

MMORPG is a massively multiplayer online role-playing game.

orrrrrrr....a mind melting obsession ruining productivity game.

Basically the point of these games is to level up. You gain expierence in different skills, increase your character's strength, thereby attaining some weird sense of superiority over lower level players (noobs).

I've fallen into this video game trap time and time again. I've wasted HOURS that can probably be measured in DAYS and possibly WEEKS on these games. And I have no idea why. Because these games are impossible to win, but I keep coming back for more. I've found that MMORPGs and games that are MMORPGish are the most addictive. They're the hardest to leave because 1) they never end and 2) you're competing with the people around you. Any game where you level up, collect coins, or prove you're better via some (literally) virtually worthless internet swag is the most addictive.

In elementary school, I played Club Penguin every day after school on my brother's laptop. I played for 1-2 hours before I had to go to soccer practice. I always ate two slices of buttered toast and drank a glass of orange juice. I collected coins, bought virtual outfits, and showed off my rare pink Easter bunny ears to the lame penguins around me. My memories of playing Club Penguin are so strong, I remember what songs I listened to on my brother's iTunes while playing. I recreated a playlist of these songs a few months ago. Some interesting ones are "Mrs. New Booty" by Bubba Sparxxx, "For You I Will (Confidence)" by Teddy Geiger, and "Yo (Excuse Me Miss)" by Chris Brown.

Yes, every time I hear Bubba Sparxxx rap about some chick's ass, I think of my innocent blue penguin.

I started Webkinz when I was 10 and still log on a decade later. In fifth grade, we were allowed to play on the computers during snack time. I never even tried to fight the other girls for a monitor. Maybe when I log on now days, I'm making up for all of that lost time. My proudest Webkinz achievements are my trophies from Wacky Zingoz and my two (not one) rare item rooms filled with furniture from the Curio Shop. I have 12 Webkinz to date. One of those twelve exists because my name was picked in a drawing at a local store. I won a Unicorn. It wasn't my favorite animal, but I was happy and named her Sprinkles. Obviously.

I started Runescape when I was 12 or so. Now, listen when I say that this game sucks souls. I can't tell you how many rocks I've mined, guards I've killed, trees I've chopped, and quests I've completed. I still get on at least once a month. Runescape was a precursor to of course....

World of War Craft. But I never got to play it.

My brother should have attended World of Warcraft anonymous. Seriously. He drank gallons of Mountain Dew and stayed up all night playing. He would complain in the backseat when he wasn't home in time for his online "meet-ups" with his virtual friends. He would talk to them through a microphone. If you haven't seen the South Park episode about World of Warcraft, please do. This game was Runescape on steroids, and I had to play.

One day I asked my brother if I could try it. He said, "No, I won't let you."

His tone was serious. He wasn't just hogging the computer. His denial was out of concern for my well-being. He was protecting me from falling into the largest, time warping black hole of all computer games.

Still to date, I think this is the nicest thing my brother has ever done for me. Thanks, brother dearest.

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

On Crying

Driving home from work the other night I was listening to Death Cab for Cutie (my favorite band of all time). Singing along to "Passenger Seat" with no one in my actual passenger seat is ironic, sure. Picture me laughing alone to myself about my song choice. Then picture me wanting to cry about my song choice.

No one was sitting in my passenger seat. No one should have been, I was just going home from work to fall into my bed as soon as I got there. Still, I wished that someone had in my car with me. That made me upset, but I didn't cry.

I kept singing and driving. I turned the volume up so loud to drown out my thoughts. But I proceeded to get more upset. I didn't have a specific person I wanted to be there with me. I really wanted to cry, but I didn't.

By the time I was turning onto my street, I was shouting the lyrics, gripping the steering whell, and getting extremely upset because I was trying to cry. I was really really trying to cry, and I couldn't.

At this point, I had forgotten about the song. I just wanted so badly to cry about my inability to cry. That desire alone is absurd, and made me feel dumb. So I wanted to cry about how ridiculous I was being, and (you guessed it) I still couldn't cry.

I've noticed in the past year or so that I have a hard time crying. Even at times when I should be balling, I can't. I find myself forcing myself to cry--it doesn't come naturally anymore.

It's like my tear ducts are malfunctioning. My body refuses to shed any tears--it's way of telling me that I really shouldn't be sad about my life. My mind and body are so out of sync, I want to scream at my organs and tell them to SNAP OUT OF IT.

I used to be able to cry on command. I could do it for entertainment's sake or to prove how green my eyes can get when I tear up.

I want so badly to see the whites of my eyes red and irritated. I want to see my irises shine hues of amber. I want my face to be puffy and swollen. I want someone to ask me, "Have you been crying?" and for me to respond, "Why yes I have been! Impressive, right?"

In the past 12 months, I've changed. I made strides in areas of my life, but simultaneously shrunk in others. I gained endurance, strength, and discipline and lost emotion. I don't feel as funny. I don't feel as happy. I feel sad, but I can't express it, so am I really sad? Laughs aren't genuine, and I can't remember the last time I cried.

I'm just waiting for something to happen. Something that will make me sob until my head hurts and laugh until my stomach bursts.