From an early age, I have been taught by my parents, teachers, and every single Disney movie I've ever seen that the ultimate goal of a person should be to get married and start a family. Only once married to "the one" can any person attain true happiness.
This idea has been carved and beaten into my skull since I could comprehend language and human relationships. I have been raised with this ideal as if its importance were nearly religious, and not simply an article of social idealism.
I am taking the time now to stand up and embrace my own singularity and independence, not to mention my unparalleled adoration for emotionally unattached sex, and to declare myself a natural singleton. I am single, and I am proud.
Though seeing my dearest friends in committed relationships brings of a pang of biologically-fueled jealousy to my stomach, this involuntary pang is minute and fleeting compared to the feelings of complete pride in my own independence I feel immediately thereafter.
I am single, therefore I am free. Free to flirt without guilt, free to dance with whomever I so choose, free to kiss when the moment calls for it and to fuck like an animal should I feel the need to. My freedom is absolute and there is no greater feeling than the feeling of complete unattachedness. My freedom is my own.
Let me be quite honest, to be single, especially during the month of February, can be quite challenging, however, despite its numerous challenges, being allows for me to focus on only myself and therefore further myself towards my goals in a more efficient, less guilt-ridden manner. No one holds me down or keeps me back from getting what I want, when I want it.
Though we have always been taught to wear our hearts on our sleeves for all to see, the singleton conceals their heart and protects it so that it may remain intact while those who expose themselves are shattered mercilessly at the hands of unrelentingly passionate lovers.
We have been taught to bring the best side of ourselves to the table, to expect the man to pay for dinner, to focus more on our prom dates than our college applications, and to listen to love songs with greater occurrence than we listen to songs about empowerment or independence.
We have been taught that there is someone for everyone and that we need another person to complete us. In short, we have been lied to. We have been lied to by our parents, teachers, social media, and worst of all, our own bodies.
Our biological need to reproduce catalyzes a series of reactions in the brain which causes long-lasting physical attraction to others. This attraction and need for romantic approval and attention is not the sensation of falling in love, it is the manifestation of our human need to survive and reproduce in any way possible. We lie to ourselves.
And what of those who try? Those who mate for life, say "till death do us part" and then break that promise only years later with a stack divorce papers or some raunchy affair? Worse, what of those who do reproduce during the interim of their vows and their demise as a couple? By splitting prematurely, they leave their children traumatized and poised to continue the emotionally suicidal cycle of loving one whose commitment simply cannot last.
A singleton avoids these risks, these horror stories of 'love' gone wrong.
To be single is to be emotionally alone, constantly. This loneliness can be difficult to bare at times, particularly when in the immediate presence of a too-cute-for-words couple, however the slight pain of being alone builds one's character and one's toughness. As the oldish saying goes, "No pain, no gain."
However, a singleton easily puts aside this pain and embraces his or her loneliness as a form of freedom and independence from the shackles of one's fellow man. The singleton lives life on the edge, proud to be an entity in them self, needing no one to fall on nor look to for guidance. The singleton laughs in the face of pathetic, emotion-heavy codependency and says to Cupid "Ready, fire, aim, bitch. Hit me with your best shot."
To be single is to be free, to be free is to be happy, and to be happy is to be single.
We are few and we are many, but we do not realize this and constantly feel alone. We fight the media's social conditioning and we dabble in casual sex, freedom of our spirits, and constant adventures. We are independent, guiltless, and free of the burdens associated with trying to care for another.
We are proud, we are shameless, we are single.
Julia
Monday, January 30, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Bluhh
This has been my weekend:
-roller derby
-fun with Philly+neon pink eyeshadow
-rave --> making new friends, trading kandi, dancing a FUCK TON
-after party --> more new friends, light shows, mucho cigarettes
-sleeping on friend's floor using Philly's jacket for a blanket
-waking up to a beautiful man with enigmatic hair holding a PBR and standing in the doorway to my friend's room offering to make coffee at 7 in the morning
-walking into house kitchen to find several men all singing the blues and drinking whiskey. (still at 7 in the morning)
-getting home
-sleeping like a dead person
I am so exhausted that I seriously cannot explain any of this at the moment. My entire body is in recovery-mode due to massive amount of partying.
Yep.
Julia
-roller derby
-fun with Philly+neon pink eyeshadow
-rave --> making new friends, trading kandi, dancing a FUCK TON
-after party --> more new friends, light shows, mucho cigarettes
-sleeping on friend's floor using Philly's jacket for a blanket
-waking up to a beautiful man with enigmatic hair holding a PBR and standing in the doorway to my friend's room offering to make coffee at 7 in the morning
-walking into house kitchen to find several men all singing the blues and drinking whiskey. (still at 7 in the morning)
-getting home
-sleeping like a dead person
I am so exhausted that I seriously cannot explain any of this at the moment. My entire body is in recovery-mode due to massive amount of partying.
Yep.
Julia
Saturday, January 28, 2012
New Perspective
Every few years, without even realizing it, I always end up shifting my personal appearance and stylistic choices towards a new social category. Years ago, I started to purge all color from my wardrobe and filled the empty spaces with black, spiky/chained/otherwise embellished embellished Hot Topic shit. I rebounded from that phase by wearing nothing but neon colors, also all from Hot Topic. Soon after, I began to dim my closet's contents to pastels and muted colors, because thats what the nice, plain girls wear.
And so the cycle continued: I'd start to dress a certain way without realizing it, then I would realize it and take the trend-following up a notch, then I'd get bored and have an awkward transitional period of wearing odd combinations, then I'd fall into a new trend without even realizing it.
What's ironic is that these days I dress like a hipster. Clarification-- I dress like an east coast hipster, who wears new, original, vintage clothing; not a "hipster" like all the blogs belonging to super sluts on Tumblr. The Tumblr-promoted west-coast "hipster" is bullshit; they're actually just self-promoting, attention-hungry girls in high-waisted denim shorts, vans sneakers, and short crop tops with long hair and deep tans flipping off the camera or frolicking through fields/beaches/Wal-Marts. It's like they're wearing a uniform, it goes against the core value of hipsterdom: Don't dress or act like the crowd, dress and act better and more originally. Why strive to meet the curve when you should strive to be ahead of it?
True, east-coast hipsterdom is all about wearing shit that's radically new and different compared to the majority of what the rest of everyone are wearing. The irony is in the fact that hipsterdom is all about not following trends when it, in itself, is a trend which is being avidly followed. It's quite paradoxical.
Anyway, I'm noticing more and more that I'd been dressing in weird, avant-garde, overly daring outfits lately. This paired with the fact that I only smoke American Spirits and adore Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer all culminates in the fact that I have found my trend for right now: I am a hipster.
However, I refuse to be musically pretentious, overtly aloof, nor ride a Fixie (the official indie bicycle of the hipster community). I also refuse to get a tan so that I may fit into the fake Tumblr "hipster" community. But I will stay true to hipsterdom and dress like a nut, smoke only Spirits (even though they're fucking expensive! $7 a pack, you'd think they had gold dust in them)
In accordance with the cycle, now that I've realized the social category that I fall into, I can nw embrace it to its fullest extent until hipsterdom becomes boring for me.
Hahaha.
How was your day?
Julia
And so the cycle continued: I'd start to dress a certain way without realizing it, then I would realize it and take the trend-following up a notch, then I'd get bored and have an awkward transitional period of wearing odd combinations, then I'd fall into a new trend without even realizing it.
What's ironic is that these days I dress like a hipster. Clarification-- I dress like an east coast hipster, who wears new, original, vintage clothing; not a "hipster" like all the blogs belonging to super sluts on Tumblr. The Tumblr-promoted west-coast "hipster" is bullshit; they're actually just self-promoting, attention-hungry girls in high-waisted denim shorts, vans sneakers, and short crop tops with long hair and deep tans flipping off the camera or frolicking through fields/beaches/Wal-Marts. It's like they're wearing a uniform, it goes against the core value of hipsterdom: Don't dress or act like the crowd, dress and act better and more originally. Why strive to meet the curve when you should strive to be ahead of it?
True, east-coast hipsterdom is all about wearing shit that's radically new and different compared to the majority of what the rest of everyone are wearing. The irony is in the fact that hipsterdom is all about not following trends when it, in itself, is a trend which is being avidly followed. It's quite paradoxical.
Anyway, I'm noticing more and more that I'd been dressing in weird, avant-garde, overly daring outfits lately. This paired with the fact that I only smoke American Spirits and adore Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer all culminates in the fact that I have found my trend for right now: I am a hipster.
However, I refuse to be musically pretentious, overtly aloof, nor ride a Fixie (the official indie bicycle of the hipster community). I also refuse to get a tan so that I may fit into the fake Tumblr "hipster" community. But I will stay true to hipsterdom and dress like a nut, smoke only Spirits (even though they're fucking expensive! $7 a pack, you'd think they had gold dust in them)
In accordance with the cycle, now that I've realized the social category that I fall into, I can nw embrace it to its fullest extent until hipsterdom becomes boring for me.
Hahaha.
How was your day?
Julia
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Contemporary
I don't know what the song was, but it was weird and indie and half electronic, half acoustic guitar with some girl with a deep, yet breathy voice singing about stars and bad girls and video games and kissing. I wish I knew what it was called or whom the artist was. But it was turned up really loudly, and was standing there, nervous as hell, with one hand on my stomach and the other's fingers beginning to curl around my neck as I heard
"Five, six, seven, eight!"
And then I danced.
For the first time in about two years, really danced, throwing my body around, contracting my spine and extending my legs to length that I had though I had lost. My body was moving across the floor, creating fluid-like lines then sharp pictures in the air and sinking low to floor with the beat of the music. It was the best feeling in the world, one I had known before but had completely forgotten.
On a whim, I took a contemporary dance class today at a crowded studio in Boulder. I had dragged Philly along, the poor kid barely kept up, but she was a good sport. She wants to do it again, but she wants to try other classes, which I will gladly do with her.
It was a challenging class; even I was having to focus really hard on the choreography to keep up, which was the most immense feeling. Me, challenged by choreography. Me, who picks the stuff up almost instantaneously, is always the best dancer at parties, me the former ballerina kid who had a secret expertise for motion. I, repeat, I was challenged and having to focus. It had been so long.
After taking that class and feeling the joy of dance that I had lost for years due to crazy directors and over-indulgence in the art, not to mention spreading myself far too thin trying to dance 16 hours a week for a company I hated, I found love again.
It sounds so ridiculously sappy, but I love dance like I can never love a human. Dancing, you are my first and only true love. I'm sorry, baby, I missed you, but now that I have you back, I'm never letting you go.
In all honesty, I feel like my heart is full again. I feel like I never need to touch another drug again. I have found what has been missing in my life and I'm so incandescently happy.
Needless to say, I'll be going back to that studio.
Julia
"Five, six, seven, eight!"
And then I danced.
For the first time in about two years, really danced, throwing my body around, contracting my spine and extending my legs to length that I had though I had lost. My body was moving across the floor, creating fluid-like lines then sharp pictures in the air and sinking low to floor with the beat of the music. It was the best feeling in the world, one I had known before but had completely forgotten.
On a whim, I took a contemporary dance class today at a crowded studio in Boulder. I had dragged Philly along, the poor kid barely kept up, but she was a good sport. She wants to do it again, but she wants to try other classes, which I will gladly do with her.
It was a challenging class; even I was having to focus really hard on the choreography to keep up, which was the most immense feeling. Me, challenged by choreography. Me, who picks the stuff up almost instantaneously, is always the best dancer at parties, me the former ballerina kid who had a secret expertise for motion. I, repeat, I was challenged and having to focus. It had been so long.
After taking that class and feeling the joy of dance that I had lost for years due to crazy directors and over-indulgence in the art, not to mention spreading myself far too thin trying to dance 16 hours a week for a company I hated, I found love again.
It sounds so ridiculously sappy, but I love dance like I can never love a human. Dancing, you are my first and only true love. I'm sorry, baby, I missed you, but now that I have you back, I'm never letting you go.
In all honesty, I feel like my heart is full again. I feel like I never need to touch another drug again. I have found what has been missing in my life and I'm so incandescently happy.
Needless to say, I'll be going back to that studio.
Julia
Friday, January 20, 2012
Russian Accent
Tonight, Philly and I hung out and walked around Boulder. We smoked like a bajillion cigarettes and basically talked about lives, interrupting the deep conversation only to smile at passing drunk hipsters.
Side note: is it just me, or does every cute hipster have a bike? Like a vintage bike. THEY ALL HAVE BIKES.
Anyway, the more we talked, the more I realized that our souls are basically symmetrical. Like, she hangs out with older people like I hang out with older people. She's been through shit like I've been through shit.
Another side note: Ok, everyone's been through some sort of shit. No one leads the happy normal life that they project; everyone has one horrible incident in their past/vital personality flaw/huge issue or some combination of those thereupon.
But she and I have been through or have had a close proximity to to the same kinds of shit. It was enlightening. Tonight was the first time that we ever talked deeply and personally. You know, in any good friendship, there always comes that time where you cut through the superficial and talk about the deep, emotional stuff. I guess that time was tonight. Now that it's out of the way, we can get back to being ridiculously and crazy with each other.
Yet another side note: I hate when after the obligatory deep, life-evaluating conversation happens with a friend, the dynamic changes. Like one or the other of you suddenly cares more or treats the other as a more fragile person and feels the need to tiptoe around certain subjects once they know they're sore. Just because someone's been traumatized doesn't necessarily mean that they're suddenly a breakable victim. They weren't a weak, sad person before you knew that they'd been through shit, why do they suddenly become one after you know?
We walked around for a few hours and bummed some cigarettes off this one guy who was really cool. He walked and talked with us for a little bit. His name was Rick and he was visiting from Leadville, but was originally from Boston. He and Philly shared an east coast sentimental moment. Then he started telling us about his life, which was weird because we had just met him... but he was still pretty chill.
We eventually got coffee at this one late-night coffee shop and Philly started teaching me Russian. We do this thing where we'll randomly start talking to each other in thick Soviet accents and then we'll forget to talk normally when talking to other people. I've ordered more than one drink at Starbucks in an accent without even realizing it until half-way through.
She was teaching me how to say 'please' and 'thank you' and 'you're welcome' in Russian when I noticed some extremely drunk guys out the window of the coffee shop doing the robot dance and we smiled at them because they were amusing. They walked on, but a few minutes later they came into the shop and sat next to us. The started talking and flirting but Philly and I were far from interested, so we politely chatted, but then got up and left. The drunk dudes followed us.
It was unspeakably awkward.
It was such a chill night... I love those.
Julia
Side note: is it just me, or does every cute hipster have a bike? Like a vintage bike. THEY ALL HAVE BIKES.
Anyway, the more we talked, the more I realized that our souls are basically symmetrical. Like, she hangs out with older people like I hang out with older people. She's been through shit like I've been through shit.
Another side note: Ok, everyone's been through some sort of shit. No one leads the happy normal life that they project; everyone has one horrible incident in their past/vital personality flaw/huge issue or some combination of those thereupon.
But she and I have been through or have had a close proximity to to the same kinds of shit. It was enlightening. Tonight was the first time that we ever talked deeply and personally. You know, in any good friendship, there always comes that time where you cut through the superficial and talk about the deep, emotional stuff. I guess that time was tonight. Now that it's out of the way, we can get back to being ridiculously and crazy with each other.
Yet another side note: I hate when after the obligatory deep, life-evaluating conversation happens with a friend, the dynamic changes. Like one or the other of you suddenly cares more or treats the other as a more fragile person and feels the need to tiptoe around certain subjects once they know they're sore. Just because someone's been traumatized doesn't necessarily mean that they're suddenly a breakable victim. They weren't a weak, sad person before you knew that they'd been through shit, why do they suddenly become one after you know?
We walked around for a few hours and bummed some cigarettes off this one guy who was really cool. He walked and talked with us for a little bit. His name was Rick and he was visiting from Leadville, but was originally from Boston. He and Philly shared an east coast sentimental moment. Then he started telling us about his life, which was weird because we had just met him... but he was still pretty chill.
We eventually got coffee at this one late-night coffee shop and Philly started teaching me Russian. We do this thing where we'll randomly start talking to each other in thick Soviet accents and then we'll forget to talk normally when talking to other people. I've ordered more than one drink at Starbucks in an accent without even realizing it until half-way through.
She was teaching me how to say 'please' and 'thank you' and 'you're welcome' in Russian when I noticed some extremely drunk guys out the window of the coffee shop doing the robot dance and we smiled at them because they were amusing. They walked on, but a few minutes later they came into the shop and sat next to us. The started talking and flirting but Philly and I were far from interested, so we politely chatted, but then got up and left. The drunk dudes followed us.
It was unspeakably awkward.
It was such a chill night... I love those.
Julia
Thursday, January 19, 2012
I Have A New Addiction
Cocaine or Acid? Nah, I'll pass.
Liquor? Quicker, but tastes like ass.
Molly is jolly, but it makes you feel humble.
My new addiction? I like to Tumbl.
Luckily my blog isn't a poetry blog! I'll leave that to you, Christopher.
Lols.
But seriously, guys, I think I may have a problem. Tumblr is just so awesome, I'm spending massive amounts of time on it. I love that all my secret fandom and all my fashion obsession can be in the same place. Aside form the random nudity, I love just browsing through pictures for hours on end. It's quite inspirational.
Anyway, if you'd like to follow me, I usually follow people back:
lilrocketgirl.tumblr,com
I've also started going to the gym again. I've figured out that I can steal my mother's membership card and get into the fitness club she goes to for free. I've gone 3 times already this week. I love working out, especially the day after, when you can feel your muscles yelling "why? WHY??" because you pushed them harder than they've been pushed in months.
I'm finally feeling really healthy, it's nice.
Julia
Liquor? Quicker, but tastes like ass.
Molly is jolly, but it makes you feel humble.
My new addiction? I like to Tumbl.
Luckily my blog isn't a poetry blog! I'll leave that to you, Christopher.
Lols.
But seriously, guys, I think I may have a problem. Tumblr is just so awesome, I'm spending massive amounts of time on it. I love that all my secret fandom and all my fashion obsession can be in the same place. Aside form the random nudity, I love just browsing through pictures for hours on end. It's quite inspirational.
Anyway, if you'd like to follow me, I usually follow people back:
lilrocketgirl.tumblr,com
I've also started going to the gym again. I've figured out that I can steal my mother's membership card and get into the fitness club she goes to for free. I've gone 3 times already this week. I love working out, especially the day after, when you can feel your muscles yelling "why? WHY??" because you pushed them harder than they've been pushed in months.
I'm finally feeling really healthy, it's nice.
Julia
Monday, January 16, 2012
I Like A Pathological Liar
I've just realized, I think I like this guy... if only a little bit. I don't know. He's in a few of my classes.
He's a talented pianist and only dates pretty blonde girls.
How fucked am I?
Julia
He's a talented pianist and only dates pretty blonde girls.
How fucked am I?
Julia
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Pfpfpfpf
I just found this picture from the New Year's Eve rave I went to... thought i should share, since y'all never saw my outfit for that anyway.
Yep.
Got the next big rave on the 28th, mucho pumped.
For now, I'm going clubbing with some buds. It's so weird to go to a club and dress normally when I'm so used to going to raves and dressing in lingerie and gogo boots.
Anyway yeah.
Julia
Yep.
Got the next big rave on the 28th, mucho pumped.
For now, I'm going clubbing with some buds. It's so weird to go to a club and dress normally when I'm so used to going to raves and dressing in lingerie and gogo boots.
Anyway yeah.
Julia
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Forensics And Football
First speech/debate tournament of the new year today! I did ok, 3rd in Dramatic Interp. That's it, my only award for today was placing in interp. You fellow debate nerds are now fully aware of what kind of day it's been.
I mean, I always do well in DI because I'm good at acting and I have this way of making judges cry at the tragicness of my 10 minute sob story. It's something I enjoy, but definitely not something that builds any useful skills.
I didn't even do debate today. I did Foreign (International for you east coast kids) Extemp. I kinda sucked today, wasn't really feeling it, and I kept getting shittastic questions. EHH. It's not an event I care too particularly much about. I wish I would have done Congress instead. I really miss actual debate because speech is getting really boring.
Anyway, at one point, right after finals were all done and we were just waiting for awards, some kids were like "Hey, come Tebowing with us!" So a few friends and I accompanied them.
For those of you that don't know, Tebowing is like planking, owling, or ragdolling; you strike the stupid pose and then you photograph it. It's memerific. Anyway, Tebowing is when you make the pose that Denver Broncos QB Tim Tebow makes every time he scores a touchdown:
Behold, the Tebow.
So we went across the street from the high school where the tournament was and ran through a super market and stopped in the middle in a along line and Tebowed like champs for an awkward minute or two.
Then we left, and were about to go back to the high school when we realized that next door to the market was a huge commercial sports bar. It struck us then that at that very moment, it was the kick-off for a Broncos playoff game. It was destiny.
We paraded in yelling "What time is it?! TEBOW TIME!!" then we Tebowed for the whole bar to see. The response? A standing ovation. Hell yeah.
Then we went back to the school for awards.
I don't even like football that much, but being from Colorado, I am proud that the Tebow is a home grown thing. I don't like Tim Tebow all that much either, but I'll gladly accept props for coming from the home of the meme.
SO yeah.
How was your day?
Julia
I mean, I always do well in DI because I'm good at acting and I have this way of making judges cry at the tragicness of my 10 minute sob story. It's something I enjoy, but definitely not something that builds any useful skills.
I didn't even do debate today. I did Foreign (International for you east coast kids) Extemp. I kinda sucked today, wasn't really feeling it, and I kept getting shittastic questions. EHH. It's not an event I care too particularly much about. I wish I would have done Congress instead. I really miss actual debate because speech is getting really boring.
Anyway, at one point, right after finals were all done and we were just waiting for awards, some kids were like "Hey, come Tebowing with us!" So a few friends and I accompanied them.
For those of you that don't know, Tebowing is like planking, owling, or ragdolling; you strike the stupid pose and then you photograph it. It's memerific. Anyway, Tebowing is when you make the pose that Denver Broncos QB Tim Tebow makes every time he scores a touchdown:
Behold, the Tebow.
So we went across the street from the high school where the tournament was and ran through a super market and stopped in the middle in a along line and Tebowed like champs for an awkward minute or two.
Then we left, and were about to go back to the high school when we realized that next door to the market was a huge commercial sports bar. It struck us then that at that very moment, it was the kick-off for a Broncos playoff game. It was destiny.
We paraded in yelling "What time is it?! TEBOW TIME!!" then we Tebowed for the whole bar to see. The response? A standing ovation. Hell yeah.
Then we went back to the school for awards.
I don't even like football that much, but being from Colorado, I am proud that the Tebow is a home grown thing. I don't like Tim Tebow all that much either, but I'll gladly accept props for coming from the home of the meme.
SO yeah.
How was your day?
Julia
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Anorexia
I am 16 years old.
I am 5 feet tall.
I weigh 93 lbs.
My waist is 24 inches around.
This is the way I am.
It's always been this way; I've always been small and skinny. I eat normally [for a stressed out student] and hardly work out because I never have time. I calorie count sometimes, but it's just when I need to balance out what I've been eating because I feel shitty, not because I need to obsessively measure my caloric intake and keep it below an impossibly low number. I NEVER intentionally lose weight [Not counting raves, because I tend to lose 2-5 lbs per rave from dancing for 6 hours straight and not eating because of the drugs]
Aside from the usual self-consciousness that every girl my age feels, I think I have a great body.
Ok, I feel like I have an acceptable body, and I'm massively self-consious about it, but I'm working on that. I'm starting to gain confidence, little by little, and the only improvement that I could possibly make would be to have more muscle tone. Big deal, I have body issues. Who doesn't?
Recently, though, I've been feeling better about myself and I'm finally feeling like I can really rock those slutty rave outfits.
But I just CAN'T WIN.
I was walking down the hall at GHS today and some hippo-sized girl and her morbidly obese mother [who was at the school for some reason] were loudly talking smack about me not even 10 feet behind me. It started with some sarcastic sounding laughing and a snort, then:
"Look at that, she needs a sandwich."
"Ew, yeah, does she eat at all?"
More laughing, then some whispering.
"Yuck."
"Not cute, at all."
"Anorexic little--"
And that's when I turned around.
I tried to remain polite, I really did, but I just couldn't stop myself.
"You both are pathetic and look disgusting. I heard the shit you were saying, and you know what? Some of us have self control,"
I gave the woman a quick up-and-down.
"But then again, obviously, some of us don't..."
I smirked and slipped into the classroom that I was walking towards.
I'm pretty used to people joking around and telling me that I need to put some meat on my bones, but when someone attacks me for simply being skinny behind my back? That shit don't fly.
So to anyone who is wondering, no, I am not, nor have I ever been anorexic. I have not been bulimic, either. I do not having any kind of eating disorder. I have tried, in desperate times, to starve myself. I can't do it. I love food way too much, and when I stop and think, I realize how stupid I'm being and eat that extra cupcake or get that extra bacon on my burger. I can see the appeal of anorexia, but in actuality, anorexia is not the answer to self-hatred. It's never the answer and never should be.
Admittedly, sometimes I just don't eat, but it's not because I hate myself and want to punish myself and become skinnier, it's because sometimes, I'M JUST NOT HUNGRY. I don't feel an intense need to stuff my face every few hours. Don't get me wrong, my love for burritos is unparalleled, but sometimes, my stomach's like "Gurrrrl, I am so not in the mood!" and I listen!!
I am so done with everyone judging the way I look.
"You're chubby!"
"You're a twig!"
"You need abs!"
"Women should have soft curves!"
"You need some tits."
"You need an ass."
Are you fucking kidding me?
My body is FINE.
Every day, I believe that statement more and more.
My body is just fucking fine.
Why am I the only one that sees it?
Julia
I am 5 feet tall.
I weigh 93 lbs.
My waist is 24 inches around.
This is the way I am.
It's always been this way; I've always been small and skinny. I eat normally [for a stressed out student] and hardly work out because I never have time. I calorie count sometimes, but it's just when I need to balance out what I've been eating because I feel shitty, not because I need to obsessively measure my caloric intake and keep it below an impossibly low number. I NEVER intentionally lose weight [Not counting raves, because I tend to lose 2-5 lbs per rave from dancing for 6 hours straight and not eating because of the drugs]
Aside from the usual self-consciousness that every girl my age feels, I think I have a great body.
Ok, I feel like I have an acceptable body, and I'm massively self-consious about it, but I'm working on that. I'm starting to gain confidence, little by little, and the only improvement that I could possibly make would be to have more muscle tone. Big deal, I have body issues. Who doesn't?
Recently, though, I've been feeling better about myself and I'm finally feeling like I can really rock those slutty rave outfits.
But I just CAN'T WIN.
I was walking down the hall at GHS today and some hippo-sized girl and her morbidly obese mother [who was at the school for some reason] were loudly talking smack about me not even 10 feet behind me. It started with some sarcastic sounding laughing and a snort, then:
"Look at that, she needs a sandwich."
"Ew, yeah, does she eat at all?"
More laughing, then some whispering.
"Yuck."
"Not cute, at all."
"Anorexic little--"
And that's when I turned around.
I tried to remain polite, I really did, but I just couldn't stop myself.
"You both are pathetic and look disgusting. I heard the shit you were saying, and you know what? Some of us have self control,"
I gave the woman a quick up-and-down.
"But then again, obviously, some of us don't..."
I smirked and slipped into the classroom that I was walking towards.
I'm pretty used to people joking around and telling me that I need to put some meat on my bones, but when someone attacks me for simply being skinny behind my back? That shit don't fly.
So to anyone who is wondering, no, I am not, nor have I ever been anorexic. I have not been bulimic, either. I do not having any kind of eating disorder. I have tried, in desperate times, to starve myself. I can't do it. I love food way too much, and when I stop and think, I realize how stupid I'm being and eat that extra cupcake or get that extra bacon on my burger. I can see the appeal of anorexia, but in actuality, anorexia is not the answer to self-hatred. It's never the answer and never should be.
Admittedly, sometimes I just don't eat, but it's not because I hate myself and want to punish myself and become skinnier, it's because sometimes, I'M JUST NOT HUNGRY. I don't feel an intense need to stuff my face every few hours. Don't get me wrong, my love for burritos is unparalleled, but sometimes, my stomach's like "Gurrrrl, I am so not in the mood!" and I listen!!
I am so done with everyone judging the way I look.
"You're chubby!"
"You're a twig!"
"You need abs!"
"Women should have soft curves!"
"You need some tits."
"You need an ass."
Are you fucking kidding me?
My body is FINE.
Every day, I believe that statement more and more.
My body is just fucking fine.
Why am I the only one that sees it?
Julia
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Bethelehemu
In choir, we sang this African tribal song that we sing every year at our Christmas concert. It's called 'Bethelehemu' [Be-Teh-Leh-Heh-Mooooo] and it's pretty cool when you do it right. There are drums and gourds and maraccas and a cowbell and stuff, and if you keep the pace up, it can end up sounding like Rocket Jesus.
But today when i checked my Facebook, to my horror, a video had been posted of the choir at my new school doing the song. Here's the kicker: it was about half the tempo it should have been. The video was seriously six and a half minutes long. I watched it, it was like crawling through African mud.
If you'd like to see the song done fairly well, at the correct tempo at least, watch here:
LINKY LINKY LINKY! CLICK ME, MOTHERFUCKER!
Yeah.
Julia
But today when i checked my Facebook, to my horror, a video had been posted of the choir at my new school doing the song. Here's the kicker: it was about half the tempo it should have been. The video was seriously six and a half minutes long. I watched it, it was like crawling through African mud.
If you'd like to see the song done fairly well, at the correct tempo at least, watch here:
LINKY LINKY LINKY! CLICK ME, MOTHERFUCKER!
Yeah.
Julia
Monday, January 9, 2012
Doing The Right Thing
It is no secret that I tend to be very unsympathetic when it comes to my treatment of people. I can be a reliable crying shoulder if I need to be, but I'll feel no guilt at all telling you to shut the fuck up, even when you're crying, if I feel that you're not genuinely upset.
Shypartyboy (Spb, he's from a while ago) texted me the other night. He was all sad and feeling sorry for himself and started unloading his problems on me. I had learned only hours earlier that a good buddy of mine from out of state had died in a fatal car crash, but I would be unable to attend her funeral because of the distance, so I was already pissed off to begin with. [at this point, after losing so many friends in the past few years, I can no longer mourn like a normal a human, I just get angry]
So Spb's texting me, telling me how he's so unhappy all the time. I think , hey, maybe I can cheer him up a tad.
I ask him what he's trying to do about it and if he's doing anything to fix it and he says that there's nothing he can do. Bullshit. There's always something you can do. If you're unhappy with your situation, it's no one's fault but your own; the blame CANNOT be shared for your own choice to unhappy. Happiness is not circumstantial, ever.
I tell him this.
He continues throwing his little pity party. This is the turning point of the conversation for me; I don't know what happened, but something just went 'snap' in my brain.
I chewed him out. I told him that he was being a self-pitying, defeatist, pathetic little pussy and that if he wasn't going to do anything about his situation [which, for the record, was nothing compared to the shit that I along the family of my late friends was going through at the time] then he could shut his mouth and get the hell out of my life, because I had more important things to deal with than his depression.
He was very offended and said that he'd expected me to be a good friend and cheer him up. I said I was being a good friend.
I was. I'd rather knock him on his ass and make an impact than be one of 389837498267 people who are all telling him "It'll get better, you're a great guy, you've got tons of stuff going for you, it's not your fault that your life isn't the greatest" because it won't, he's not, he doesn't, and it IS.
It would have been so easy to simply send him a few reassuring messages and be done with it, but in that moment, the difference between the right thing and the easy thing was more tangible to me than it had ever been before and I chose to do the RIGHT thing for once.
And now I'm letting one of my friends live with me for a little while because she's in actual bad situation at home. I'm already starting to get annoyed and tense because I HATE sharing my personal time and space, but I'm gritting my teeth and remaining calm because I know it's the right thing to do. Plus, she's actually trying to change her life, not just let the shit keep piling on.
With Psb, it boggled my mind that someone so able could allow himself to remain static and watch his life get worse and worse. He had the option and opportunity to change things, and they keep comign, but it's no one's fault buthis own that he's not capitalizing upon anything.
I cannot abide useless people.
Julia
Shypartyboy (Spb, he's from a while ago) texted me the other night. He was all sad and feeling sorry for himself and started unloading his problems on me. I had learned only hours earlier that a good buddy of mine from out of state had died in a fatal car crash, but I would be unable to attend her funeral because of the distance, so I was already pissed off to begin with. [at this point, after losing so many friends in the past few years, I can no longer mourn like a normal a human, I just get angry]
So Spb's texting me, telling me how he's so unhappy all the time. I think , hey, maybe I can cheer him up a tad.
I ask him what he's trying to do about it and if he's doing anything to fix it and he says that there's nothing he can do. Bullshit. There's always something you can do. If you're unhappy with your situation, it's no one's fault but your own; the blame CANNOT be shared for your own choice to unhappy. Happiness is not circumstantial, ever.
I tell him this.
He continues throwing his little pity party. This is the turning point of the conversation for me; I don't know what happened, but something just went 'snap' in my brain.
I chewed him out. I told him that he was being a self-pitying, defeatist, pathetic little pussy and that if he wasn't going to do anything about his situation [which, for the record, was nothing compared to the shit that I along the family of my late friends was going through at the time] then he could shut his mouth and get the hell out of my life, because I had more important things to deal with than his depression.
He was very offended and said that he'd expected me to be a good friend and cheer him up. I said I was being a good friend.
I was. I'd rather knock him on his ass and make an impact than be one of 389837498267 people who are all telling him "It'll get better, you're a great guy, you've got tons of stuff going for you, it's not your fault that your life isn't the greatest" because it won't, he's not, he doesn't, and it IS.
It would have been so easy to simply send him a few reassuring messages and be done with it, but in that moment, the difference between the right thing and the easy thing was more tangible to me than it had ever been before and I chose to do the RIGHT thing for once.
And now I'm letting one of my friends live with me for a little while because she's in actual bad situation at home. I'm already starting to get annoyed and tense because I HATE sharing my personal time and space, but I'm gritting my teeth and remaining calm because I know it's the right thing to do. Plus, she's actually trying to change her life, not just let the shit keep piling on.
With Psb, it boggled my mind that someone so able could allow himself to remain static and watch his life get worse and worse. He had the option and opportunity to change things, and they keep comign, but it's no one's fault buthis own that he's not capitalizing upon anything.
I cannot abide useless people.
Julia
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Let Me Be Honest Here:
My new personal mantra is this:
אם אין אני לי מי לי
It means, 'If I am not for me, who will be for me?'
It's this old Hebrew proverbial thing. It just means that you can't trust anyone and you have to live for yourself before you live for anyone else.
In AP Lang, my teacher ripped apart something that I said in front of the entire class. The whole point of the class is to analyze and break down what others communicate, but I was taken aback when she did it to me. She said that the simplistic bluntness of my statement reflected the fact that I fear vulnerability. I was like 'dafuq?'
Vulnerability doesn't frighten me, it merely disgusts me.
Anyway, she says I need to be more honest with myself about who I am and what I really want.
That little tic-tac sized comment stuck in my brain and marinated for a while, and then today, the realization that I need to figure out who I am came to fruition.
I took a night drive and thought about myself. I realized that the superficial aspects of myself are just as valuable as the deeper ones, because no matter whether it's a deep or shallow aspect, it's part of who I am.
This is me right now:
I miss dancing, because it made my legs look good.
I also miss it because it is one of the few things that I am confidently and consistently good at.
I have never weighed a hundred pounds in my life and yet I still manage to look chubby.
I am not tall, thin, nor tan, although I wish I was.
My nose is not cute and my teeth are not straight.
I have pale skin and freckles and I get pimples if I don't wash off my make up every night.
I wear make up every day, I can't leave the house without it.
Sometimes I just don't eat; it's not deliberate, it's because sometimes I'm just not hungry.
I smoke cigarettes because I like them.
I dye my hair because no matter what color it is, it's never the color I want it to be.
I bore easily. I'm vindictive and sarcastic and judgmental and snarky.
I'm dyslexic, but I try to hide that underneath an over-developed vocabulary and habitual eloquence.
I lost my virginity when I was 15 to a boy I didn't even like that much and I feel absolutely no shame about it.
Whenever I realize I've made a typo, I secretly want to die, but I can never bring myself to go back and republish any old posts even when there are glaring mistakes in them.
I think my Hello Kitty bedsheets are almost as cool as my Pokemon ones.
I am flawed, and flaws are beautiful, but I am not beautiful.
I like to wear high heels because I'm short and they make my butt look good.
I have no sympathy for fat or clinically depressed people.
I hate wearing my glasses because they remind me of my shamefully nerdy past.
I wish I could afford to dress better, but I'm poor along with my parents.
I try to be as smart as possible, yet I always feel incredibly stupid whenever I talk to people.
I think my love for the rave scene is already starting to stagnate.
I wish my hair was long and silky, but it's not.
I think that conventionally pretty is conventionally boring.
To me, being not being vulnerable is worth not being fully understood.
I'd rather be a hipster than a barbie, but barbies get all the boys.
I realize that perfection is unattainable, but I strive for it anyway.
After years of being fiercely single, I think I finally want a boyfriend, but the boy I like is too preoccupied with himself to realize that I'm there.
I wish I could play guitar, because if I could, then I would actually have a chance at being a performer for a living.
I am terrified that I'm not going to get asked to the prom, and that if I do, I'm so short that I'll never be able to find a dress.
I found an anorexia blog on Tumblr today and reblogged a bunch of the pictures.
I wish I owned more leggings.
People always ask me what my sexual orientation is, and I say I'm undefined because even pansexuality is too restricting.
I believe one should have sex with a personality, not just a body.
My priorities start with my own appearance and then descend into other's perception of me.
I hate being constantly categorized; why can't I party AND be smart AND dress well AND know how to fix the brakes on my car all by myself?
I like 'Anthem' by Ayn Rand better than any of her other long and boring 'masterpieces'.
I have issues trusting men after one that I dated beat the shit out me on a regular basis.
I read Shakespeare when I'm stressed out, and if I can't do that, then I drive around at night and smoke a lot of cigarettes. Sometimes I lie without realizing it but am too stubborn to admit it if anyone notices.
I paint my nails just to peel the polish off.
I love food too much to have an eating disorder.
I've always wanted to shave off half my hair or dye it all bright pink.
I am so many different people all the time that sometimes I forget who I am when I'm alone.
And I think that's about it.
Julia
אם אין אני לי מי לי
It means, 'If I am not for me, who will be for me?'
It's this old Hebrew proverbial thing. It just means that you can't trust anyone and you have to live for yourself before you live for anyone else.
In AP Lang, my teacher ripped apart something that I said in front of the entire class. The whole point of the class is to analyze and break down what others communicate, but I was taken aback when she did it to me. She said that the simplistic bluntness of my statement reflected the fact that I fear vulnerability. I was like 'dafuq?'
Vulnerability doesn't frighten me, it merely disgusts me.
Anyway, she says I need to be more honest with myself about who I am and what I really want.
That little tic-tac sized comment stuck in my brain and marinated for a while, and then today, the realization that I need to figure out who I am came to fruition.
I took a night drive and thought about myself. I realized that the superficial aspects of myself are just as valuable as the deeper ones, because no matter whether it's a deep or shallow aspect, it's part of who I am.
This is me right now:
I miss dancing, because it made my legs look good.
I also miss it because it is one of the few things that I am confidently and consistently good at.
I have never weighed a hundred pounds in my life and yet I still manage to look chubby.
I am not tall, thin, nor tan, although I wish I was.
My nose is not cute and my teeth are not straight.
I have pale skin and freckles and I get pimples if I don't wash off my make up every night.
I wear make up every day, I can't leave the house without it.
Sometimes I just don't eat; it's not deliberate, it's because sometimes I'm just not hungry.
I smoke cigarettes because I like them.
I dye my hair because no matter what color it is, it's never the color I want it to be.
I bore easily. I'm vindictive and sarcastic and judgmental and snarky.
I'm dyslexic, but I try to hide that underneath an over-developed vocabulary and habitual eloquence.
I lost my virginity when I was 15 to a boy I didn't even like that much and I feel absolutely no shame about it.
Whenever I realize I've made a typo, I secretly want to die, but I can never bring myself to go back and republish any old posts even when there are glaring mistakes in them.
I think my Hello Kitty bedsheets are almost as cool as my Pokemon ones.
I am flawed, and flaws are beautiful, but I am not beautiful.
I like to wear high heels because I'm short and they make my butt look good.
I have no sympathy for fat or clinically depressed people.
I hate wearing my glasses because they remind me of my shamefully nerdy past.
I wish I could afford to dress better, but I'm poor along with my parents.
I try to be as smart as possible, yet I always feel incredibly stupid whenever I talk to people.
I think my love for the rave scene is already starting to stagnate.
I wish my hair was long and silky, but it's not.
I think that conventionally pretty is conventionally boring.
To me, being not being vulnerable is worth not being fully understood.
I'd rather be a hipster than a barbie, but barbies get all the boys.
I realize that perfection is unattainable, but I strive for it anyway.
After years of being fiercely single, I think I finally want a boyfriend, but the boy I like is too preoccupied with himself to realize that I'm there.
I wish I could play guitar, because if I could, then I would actually have a chance at being a performer for a living.
I am terrified that I'm not going to get asked to the prom, and that if I do, I'm so short that I'll never be able to find a dress.
I found an anorexia blog on Tumblr today and reblogged a bunch of the pictures.
I wish I owned more leggings.
People always ask me what my sexual orientation is, and I say I'm undefined because even pansexuality is too restricting.
I believe one should have sex with a personality, not just a body.
My priorities start with my own appearance and then descend into other's perception of me.
I hate being constantly categorized; why can't I party AND be smart AND dress well AND know how to fix the brakes on my car all by myself?
I like 'Anthem' by Ayn Rand better than any of her other long and boring 'masterpieces'.
I have issues trusting men after one that I dated beat the shit out me on a regular basis.
I read Shakespeare when I'm stressed out, and if I can't do that, then I drive around at night and smoke a lot of cigarettes. Sometimes I lie without realizing it but am too stubborn to admit it if anyone notices.
I paint my nails just to peel the polish off.
I love food too much to have an eating disorder.
I've always wanted to shave off half my hair or dye it all bright pink.
I am so many different people all the time that sometimes I forget who I am when I'm alone.
And I think that's about it.
Julia
Beeteedubs
I switched school because I was bored and wanted to beef up my transcript before college apps and also because Hicktown High School is full of rich yet wholly under-motivated people and my new school, GHS, is less so.
Cosette: Philly moved here, I didn't move to the east coast; I have no idea how anyone could have come to that conclusion XD
Cosette: Philly moved here, I didn't move to the east coast; I have no idea how anyone could have come to that conclusion XD
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Friends
So I've made a few friends, but the majority of people I've met have been undeniably annoying and/or ignorant and/or stupid. I'm not picky about my friends, but the prep levels at this school are practically off the charts. However, there are always the seldom few whom one can find solace with.
I met a girl today in physics, she just moved here, and her name is Philly. Not really, but that's what I'm calling her on here. We knd of bonded over both being the new kids and both feeling like the math teacher we both have is a blaring idiot. So anyway, right after physics, we went to get coffee, and we got to talking a ton and basically, our souls are possibly identical twins.
I swear to God, it's like she's the east-coast version of me. She's mad chill and likes partying too, but is still intelligent and dresses well. It's like every time I mentioned something about myself, she'd be that way too. It's like a divine fucking omen, like we were meant to be buds.
I can see this friendship going places, for sure, and I hope it goes positively, but I have reservations because this is the way it started with Em. I don't know if I've told you guys about how things are right now, but here's the way it is:
When I first met Ember, I thought she had best buddy potential, and for a while, she did. But now, she brings drama into every situation that she's a part of and I can barely stand to be around her.
Em has been continually fucking Lionboy and I over for a while now, but it's gotten really bad recently. Like, bad to the point that I've begun ignoring her texts and making up excuses not to be around her. Bad to the point that Lionboy and I have begun making our rave plans without her being part of the equation. We are both fairly fed up, but I personally cannot handle her pissyness, nor her complete lack of consideration and utter disregard for the privacy, time, emotions, wallets, and obligations of those around her. She is inconsiderate, irresponsible, and ignorantly selfish, and I'm beyond done with it.
But enough venting. My point here is that when making new friends now, especially when they seem to have that kind of potential right out of the gate, I have concerns. I'm concerned especially because Philly is so much like me. I hope she doesn't turn out to be as self-centered as Em, because Philly seems really chill and I need chill in my life right now.
On the bright side of things, I've been asked to perform my poetry piece again this year for a bunch of freshman English classes. The teacher was like, could you maybe do this? Oh, and it's tomorrow.
Heh. So I suppose I'm going to be slamming for freshmen again.. I should probably go practice...
Julia
I met a girl today in physics, she just moved here, and her name is Philly. Not really, but that's what I'm calling her on here. We knd of bonded over both being the new kids and both feeling like the math teacher we both have is a blaring idiot. So anyway, right after physics, we went to get coffee, and we got to talking a ton and basically, our souls are possibly identical twins.
I swear to God, it's like she's the east-coast version of me. She's mad chill and likes partying too, but is still intelligent and dresses well. It's like every time I mentioned something about myself, she'd be that way too. It's like a divine fucking omen, like we were meant to be buds.
I can see this friendship going places, for sure, and I hope it goes positively, but I have reservations because this is the way it started with Em. I don't know if I've told you guys about how things are right now, but here's the way it is:
When I first met Ember, I thought she had best buddy potential, and for a while, she did. But now, she brings drama into every situation that she's a part of and I can barely stand to be around her.
Em has been continually fucking Lionboy and I over for a while now, but it's gotten really bad recently. Like, bad to the point that I've begun ignoring her texts and making up excuses not to be around her. Bad to the point that Lionboy and I have begun making our rave plans without her being part of the equation. We are both fairly fed up, but I personally cannot handle her pissyness, nor her complete lack of consideration and utter disregard for the privacy, time, emotions, wallets, and obligations of those around her. She is inconsiderate, irresponsible, and ignorantly selfish, and I'm beyond done with it.
But enough venting. My point here is that when making new friends now, especially when they seem to have that kind of potential right out of the gate, I have concerns. I'm concerned especially because Philly is so much like me. I hope she doesn't turn out to be as self-centered as Em, because Philly seems really chill and I need chill in my life right now.
On the bright side of things, I've been asked to perform my poetry piece again this year for a bunch of freshman English classes. The teacher was like, could you maybe do this? Oh, and it's tomorrow.
Heh. So I suppose I'm going to be slamming for freshmen again.. I should probably go practice...
Julia
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
This Movie Will Change Your Life
It sure changed mine.
Anyway, I don't know if you guys will actually like it or not, but I adore this movie. It's got a bunch of future stars in it, like Matthew Lillard, and is ridiculously quotable.
WATCH IT HERE.
You're welcome.
Julia
Anyway, I don't know if you guys will actually like it or not, but I adore this movie. It's got a bunch of future stars in it, like Matthew Lillard, and is ridiculously quotable.
WATCH IT HERE.
You're welcome.
Julia
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
New School Jitters
I don't think I've felt this way in years. All of my previous school transitions have been made with the company of my previous friends. Here in Hicktown, the kids you went to kindergarten with are the same ones in your AP Euro class. When I entered both middle and high school, I knew the majority of fellow students already and was therefore able to slide easily into whichever clique I chose at the time. But not now.
I think this is the first time in my life when I've had to go to a new school not only mid-year, but without the support of having pre-made friends. I know a few people at this new school, but I'm definitely going to be the new kid.
I am genuinely nervous, this is so weird!
Being fully aware of just how important first impressions are, I'm terrified that I'm going to make the wrong ones. I'm very conscientious of the social hierarchies within HHS setting and I have made a very nice little niche for myself just between 'theater kid' and 'party kid', which are both comfortably high on the ladder.
However, at GHS, I have no idea what the ladders look like or who sits atop them. I don't want to be immediately categorized as a 'stoner' or 'ewww that scary awkward kid'. I also don't want to be immediately picked up whatever slut crew fucked and fondled their way to the top of the pile. I am dominant enough on my own, I don't need an army of whores spreading shit behind my back and then smiling to my face and calling the whole process 'friendship'.
I just want to find a comfortable spot to sit on the ladder until summer, dig?
So. Nervous.
Julia
PS: This is where you, my lovely few and foreign followers, leave possibly a few words of encouragement and a smiley face.... Please.
I think this is the first time in my life when I've had to go to a new school not only mid-year, but without the support of having pre-made friends. I know a few people at this new school, but I'm definitely going to be the new kid.
I am genuinely nervous, this is so weird!
Being fully aware of just how important first impressions are, I'm terrified that I'm going to make the wrong ones. I'm very conscientious of the social hierarchies within HHS setting and I have made a very nice little niche for myself just between 'theater kid' and 'party kid', which are both comfortably high on the ladder.
However, at GHS, I have no idea what the ladders look like or who sits atop them. I don't want to be immediately categorized as a 'stoner' or 'ewww that scary awkward kid'. I also don't want to be immediately picked up whatever slut crew fucked and fondled their way to the top of the pile. I am dominant enough on my own, I don't need an army of whores spreading shit behind my back and then smiling to my face and calling the whole process 'friendship'.
I just want to find a comfortable spot to sit on the ladder until summer, dig?
So. Nervous.
Julia
PS: This is where you, my lovely few and foreign followers, leave possibly a few words of encouragement and a smiley face.... Please.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Resolved:
I know I am blowing up everyone's blogfeed, and I'm sorry! I promise this is my last post for a few days! Being on break has upped my amount of bloggable material like, exponentially...
Anyway. Tis time, tis time for that yearly tradition: The New Year's Resolutions.
I'm not going to set my expectations of myself too high for this year, because everyone knows that resolutionifying any important goal that you have is like giving it the kiss of death. So, I'm goign to attempt to avoid that...
Here's the official list, and I'm going to state them as if they were debate topics, because I am a nerd like that.
Resolutions 2012
1 - Resolved: One's room ought to be kept clean in order to improve one's personal happiness.
2 - Resolved: One ought to dress fashionably every day, without fail, because image is most important when making first impressions.
3 -Resolved: Those who are naturally talented at art have a social obligation to make more art.
4 - Resolved: A habit of dating douchebags is detrimental to one's physical and emotional health and should be eradicated.
5 - Resolved: Saving money and becoming more conscientious about one's personal finances is important.
6 - Resolved: One should go to Boulder as much as humanly possible.
7 - Resolved: Wondercuffs and other 3D kandi pieces should be made often for rave friends.
8 - Resolved: One should improve upon their own con artistry techniques.
9 - Resolved: Commitments are important and should always be upheld, big or small.
10 - Resolved: Sex should be emotion-based.
And there you have it, a list of resolutions which I hope to affirm in the coming year.
Happy New Year!
Julia
PS: If the whole apocalypse thing really does happen, then you should all come to Colorado. It's elevated (safe from floods), land-locked (no hurricanes), and mountainous (no tornados), conservative (no gun control-->bring it on, zombies!), and if the world is ending, then I'm throwing the party :)
Anyway. Tis time, tis time for that yearly tradition: The New Year's Resolutions.
I'm not going to set my expectations of myself too high for this year, because everyone knows that resolutionifying any important goal that you have is like giving it the kiss of death. So, I'm goign to attempt to avoid that...
Here's the official list, and I'm going to state them as if they were debate topics, because I am a nerd like that.
Resolutions 2012
1 - Resolved: One's room ought to be kept clean in order to improve one's personal happiness.
2 - Resolved: One ought to dress fashionably every day, without fail, because image is most important when making first impressions.
3 -Resolved: Those who are naturally talented at art have a social obligation to make more art.
4 - Resolved: A habit of dating douchebags is detrimental to one's physical and emotional health and should be eradicated.
5 - Resolved: Saving money and becoming more conscientious about one's personal finances is important.
6 - Resolved: One should go to Boulder as much as humanly possible.
7 - Resolved: Wondercuffs and other 3D kandi pieces should be made often for rave friends.
8 - Resolved: One should improve upon their own con artistry techniques.
9 - Resolved: Commitments are important and should always be upheld, big or small.
10 - Resolved: Sex should be emotion-based.
And there you have it, a list of resolutions which I hope to affirm in the coming year.
Happy New Year!
Julia
PS: If the whole apocalypse thing really does happen, then you should all come to Colorado. It's elevated (safe from floods), land-locked (no hurricanes), and mountainous (no tornados), conservative (no gun control-->bring it on, zombies!), and if the world is ending, then I'm throwing the party :)
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