Release your high hopes and they’ll survive ’cause this is the future and you are alive.

March 23, 2011

Ahh, I haven’t updated in such a long time and it really disappoints me. I was just reading this article, 50 Lessons Life Taught Me, and one of the lessons was “If you want to be a writer, write.” I have been doing some writing since I’m in a poetry class, which I am absolutely in love with. However, I haven’t written for myself in a long time. I did a few LiveJournal updates, solely because I felt as though I had to update myself on my life, but I just like to go off on these tangents that maybe someone will read.

So today as I was just lathering my hair, I thought to myself, “Aw yeah, college yeah, best years of my life, yeah.” I appreciate the fact that I think about these things in the morning, because it’s a nice way to start the day. Then I get to thinking. When I’m removed from the college live (a.k.a. “the dream”) I’m going to look back on my life and remember certain people by their roles in my life.

I know I’ve expressed this to some of you before, but I’ll elaborate. It’s so weird to think that I’m going to remember where I’m sitting right now as my desk at my first apartment…even though it’s an on-campus apartment. I’ll always have this seat, this desk, the chair, the TV, the fan, my mirror, and all of the mess burned into  my mind as this stepping stone. I am now making memories I will look back on fondly ten, twenty, thirty, etc. years down the road and smile because of the things I am doing now.

It’s a surreal feeling. The friends I ate dinner with tonight? I will remember them as some of the best people I’ve ever met in my life–the people who were STRUGGLIN’ with me, who danced with me, laughed with me, cried with me, puked with me, and so many other things. These people are an inextricable part of my life that I will always love.

My boyfriend right now? (I really hope he’s not reading this because I’d be embarrassed.) He is my college boyfriend. And, yes, I’ve had one before him, but when I look back on these years, he will be my college love! (OH MY GOD ANITA SAYING THE L WORD WHAT? That’s another story that we won’t tell here…hehe :D) But, like, we’ve all heard the stories about our parents’ college boyfriends, if they had them, and I’m just like…oh god I am making these memories now.

We hear the stories about the college roommate…and we’re making them. You, my friends, my roomies, you are legends in the making. It’s just blowing my mind that I’m currently smack in the middle of probably the most pivotal experience of my life. I feel like I shouldn’t treat this normally. It’s like…I’m drinking a milkshake, and yes, it is one that brings all the boys to the yard. I’m in the middle of the milkshake, still enjoying it, but I feel as though I am at the bottom and I should be sucking up every last drop of it. I don’t know, it’s weird to just think I’m nonchalantly cruising through my days when these are apparently the best days of my life.

The lady who does my eyebrows said to me that I should enjoy college. She said, “You’ll never get those days back.” I’m trying to do my best to enjoy these days, and I think I’m doing a good job, but I just don’t want to think about a time when this will end. Ahh!

I like how this blog is primarily me coming to terms with getting older. I am such a twenty-something.

I guess the take-away message of this is…if you’re in my life, thanks for being there. I’m going to look back, think of you, and smile because you made the best years of my life worthwhile. After I think of you, I’ll text you or some business, then you’ll come over and we’ll make fun adult drinks and shoot the shit. 🙂

Making some memories with some of my favorite ladies ❤


Yeah, it’s overwhelming, but what else can we do? Get jobs in offices and wake up for the morning commute?

December 31, 2010

First of all, let me say that I am extremely encouraged that although I haven’t been the best at updating, my blog has received hits EVERY SINGLE DAY SO FAR IN DECEMBER! One more to go! Thank you guys for reading. I would resolve, for the new year, to update more but I don’t do resolutions. I change my mind too frequently to vow to do something for an entire year. I sent my roomie a text that said “My resolution for 2011 is to be a man-eating cunt bitch” and he asked me what the difference would be. ZING’D.

I was joking by the way. Maybe.


Cutting to the chase, I actually went into work today, which I appreciated. I’m desperately broke and could use the cash, especially since I drained my bank account for Christmas. That does mean I spent nearly every last dollar I had…haha. Worth it though. 🙂

Essentially, all I do for work is pack letters–“literature kits” as they call them. Letter. Price sheet. CD. Magazine. Seal. Postmark. Repeat. Needless to say, it’s not much of a mentally taxing job, but it gets pretty dry after a while. I like working for short periods of time, though, because they let me listen to my iPod while I stuff the envelopes. So, I do some mindless work and listen to my iPod while meditating on life. And yes, I actually meditate on life while I listen to my music. Songs bring up questions and ideas about different facets of life. For example, I’m listening to “The Only Exception” by Paramore, which came on shuffle when I was working. Don’t judge me. I appreciate the cynicism towards love in the song, so I ended up thinking about my own cynical standpoint on the l-word. I keyed in on the lines, “Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love never lasts/And we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone or keep a straight face/And I’ve always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance/And up until now I had sworn to myself that I’m content with loneliness because none of it was ever worth the risk” and nodded my head along. I was all, “Yeah, Hayley Williams. Yeah. I understand that. Love never lasts. Yeah. No falling in that shit.” But, of course, she talks about the exception to that and I get all grumpy.

JESUS I am bad with digressing.

SO. I was plodding along to pick up a box of envelopes/magazines/something from…some random box-filled room that has a specific name which, when spoken to me, is met with a blank “wat” stare…and “Time to Pretend” by MGMT came on. One of the lines is the subject of my entry–the whole “oh nooo sell out get office jobs” yadda yadda. I felt like a SHAM. I waited in line for hooouurrrsss, possibly six, to see this band live (and I was front and center a-thank-you-very-much) who is all about THE DISESTABLISHMENT or freedom or some other hippie shit and then WHAM my secret office job life.

Then I proceeded to meditate on life once again. I thought to myself, well, I’m just doing this because I need the money. Who the hell actually aspires to have an office job? Then I realized that almost everyone I worked with was doing this as a career and not out of the need for sporadic opportunities to hopefully make 50 bucks. I can’t imagine sitting in a cubicle, 9-5, plunking away at a keyboard. How is that gratifying? I imagine getting a hefty check might make it worth it to some people, but I could never stay in a job like that. My current job isn’t torture, since I get the opportunity to just have “me” time which is pretty nice, honestly, but these other people are doing legitimate tasks. I just don’t see the joy in that.

I thought, what if growing up means giving up a part of yourself? Do I have to sacrifice my carefree, wild spirit (lol why did I type that? Cliche.) to fit into a place where I actually can be an asset to a company or a society? I want to be a psychologist, so I have to work under something, but in an ideal world it wouldn’t feel much like a job to me…more like practicing something I love. The people I work under better not tether me much, though, our they will be subjected to bellows of, “I’M A FREE BITCH, BABY.” Seems to be a theme with my entries.

But just because I want to be a psychologist doesn’t mean I necessarily will be one. I have this constant fear that I’m going to fail at everything in life, ever. I’m afraid I’ll end up in a dead-end job I hate just to support a decent lifestyle for decades. I just fear leading a miserable life where I don’t smile or laugh. I fear all of the payments real adults have to pay. I don’t know what half of the words mean in the commercials for financing and things. When numbers appear, my brain goes to mush.

I’m a creature of pure feeling. I don’t know how this is going to translate into being an adult, but I hope I don’t have to give up being a dreamer. I feel like adults don’t dream anymore, but resign into a life of routine. There’s nothing I can do, though. The future is coming like a freight train and I’m gonna get hit eventually. Hopefully it will be painless.


And that’s what really hurts, you do it to yourself, just you, you and no one else.

December 22, 2010

I have been extremely bad with my updates, even after I vowed to myself that I would complete a double thirty day challenge. Well, if anyone reading this knows me particularly well, you know that I am one of those people who gets into a mood very quickly…only to very soon drop straight out of it. I’m bad at committing to things. It’s because I’m a free bitch, baby.

But, really. Classes, papers, coming home, sleeping until my body can’t stand unconsciousness any longer, and Christmas shopping have been consuming my life as of late. I’m happy to say I believe my academic life has taken a turn for the better after a brief hiatus in just-skirting-by land. Oh hooray excelling not being a miserable failure in academia once again!

Now that my brains can please me, what about beauty? I was watching a show the other day while fiddling with solitaire on my phone. I couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of the program, but it was all about the obsession with beauty. Generally, I’m always one of those people who goes THE MEDIA HAS CORRUPTED US ALL! NO ONE REALLY LOOKS LIKE THAT! NO ONE CAN DO THESE THINGS! I never really take a step back and look at myself or the people around me and see what these things are doing to us.

I’ve known people who have struggled with weight and their appearances and it’s something very tragic to witness. I just wanted to shake every person who didn’t think they were beautiful/handsome/sexy/gorgeous/stunning and go, “”MY GOD, YOUR SMILE LIGHTS UP MY LIFE, CUT IT OUT. BEAUTY RADIATES FROM YOU,” but I know that won’t help. I know the most beautiful people, ever, which is cliche and dumb to say–but I do.

Now, there’s something you must understand when I use the word beautiful. I have no clue what any one of you (by you, I mean friends and perhaps lovers hehe) looks like from a completely unbiased point of view. There’s no reversing that, ever. Anyone I care enough to get close to I see as some type of grand being–someone who just emanates beauty and love. You aren’t much of a flesh-and-bones person anymore. When I look at you, I might see deep, gorgeous eyes or a smile that could leave someone breathless. Those things just don’t matter to me after I get to know you. Your personality becomes a shell around you, which is all I process. Sure, when I first meet a person I can see nothing beyond physical appearance, and to be honest, that never is much of a concern of mine. I know people say looks matter but I choose to give people a chance in any setting before just dismissing them as an unworthy person of my time. Going back to seeing beyond physicality! People I get to know become their laughs, their presences, their beings. I will be grateful for the way you pick up my mannerisms, or the way I pick up yours. I’ll think of you as funny text messages at the right time when I feel like crying, not my friend with a slammin’ body. You’re just…a ball of positive love and awesomeness to me. It’s so hard to articulate what I mean, but I hope someone out there understands.

I’m coming across as someone who isn’t shallow, but I have my moments. Trust me. I like hot guys. I SAID IT. Given, my idea of hot doesn’t line up with a lot of other people’s, I still value attractive men somewhat. I care about what I look like. I wish I didn’t, but I can’t help but want to lose weight. I’ve done a good job at maintaining it, which I guess is something I should be proud of, but I feel this constant pressure of you’re 20. This is the best it’s gonna get. This is your one and only chance to actually try to be hot. WHY AREN’T YOU TAKING ADVANTAGE OF THIS?! Admittedly, I’m pretty absurd, but I might not be alone in that. I mean, we all get bombarded with these images that tell us we aren’t good enough. I was just talking with my friend Alyssa over hot chocolates that my Wii fit tells me I should really try to lose 20 pounds. The girls next to us laughed and said that their Wii fits said the same exact thing. Hell, these two were strangers and they were very pretty who didn’t need to change a thing.

This show I was watching, which sparked the need for this post, said that liposuction is 60x more likely to cause a death than any other surgery. While I’m sure I’m getting that statistic wrong somehow, since I may be miswording it or not understanding it, what I do know is that it said 60x and death and more likely. Maybe it doesn’t apply to things like a quadruple bypass, but it was a shocking thing to hear nonetheless. I can’t believe that people would subject themselves to something so risky just to shave off a couple of inches. It’s so much cheaper to just…put down the hot dog and jump on a treadmill. Maybe not easier, but cheaper and less risky.

Some lady wanted to look like Nefertiti on the show, which I guess is cool since she wanted to do it for art or something, but I just don’t understand why anyone would put so much effort into looking like someone else. Your face is what makes you YOU! I thought, when they showed her face, that she was going to be a PLASTIC SURGERY GONE WRONG victim. I guess she’s really pleased with the results, but she looks horrifying to me. Truth be told, I hate my nose and I joke about getting it done all of the time. The jokes are really half-jokes because I’d like to do something about that gigantic honker in the middle of my face. The thing I don’t like about that idea is…my nose is me. My face is me. I feel like changing your face especially by surgery makes you a little less you. And you’re beautiful, damn it.

Of course, I never believe it when anyone calls me beautiful…but I’m sincere! Believe me!

Why are we all so insecure and on constant journeys to better our looks? It’s really such a shame. If it makes you feel awesome, I condone it. Self esteem is great to have. However, if you’re a big part of my life, I love you just the way you are and I couldn’t find a single thing to change about you. Physical flaws aren’t apparent to me, but personality ones are 😉 I wouldn’t change those either, haha, I love you for you! All of you! Every little bit, my loves. Every. Minuscule. Molecule. :3


I guess what they say is true. I could never be the right kind of girl for you.

December 3, 2010

Day #4, commence!

#4 Pissed.

I am very aware of how foolish I look, but that’s how I look when I’m pissed. I won’t retake a picture for this, since I’m not taking it deathly seriously.

#4: The best thing to happen to me this week.

This week wasn’t very good. It started off on a very negative note, which has launched me as close to the edge of sanity as I was willing to go. there are always bright moments, but I just have a big cloud hanging over my head.

But! I went to see Jeffree Star last night, which was really fun. The two opening acts were Dev and The It Boys. Both of them were pretty awesome. They brought great energy. Ian, Alyssa, and I went to the Worcester Palladium, upstairs, which was tiny. There were approximately 100 people there. The other show I went to that was that small was Harry and the Potters back in 2005! In the BURLINGTON PUBLIC LIBRARY, REPRESENT.

We met up with some of Alyssa’s friends. They were quite fun. The crowd was comprised of 15-year-olds and their questionably old chaperones. I wanted to mosh with the little kids, since I know I can kick their pre-pubescent asses. this didn’t happen, much to my dismay, but Alyssa, Ian, and I danced our hearts away to Mr. Star.

He is just as gorgeous in person as he is in pictures. I was struck by his androgynous beauty! He is very skinny and when I put my arm around him for a picture, I was afraid I would break him. You’d expect a guy whose lyrics are, “Ain’t no bitch who can do it like me/I’m the h-o-t s-h-i-t” to be kind of an asshole. He was very humble, polite, soft-spoken, and sweet. He called me baby! Haha.

The Worcester Palladium is tagged with “IB AF AK <3” now, by the way. How fun!

In any case, during an altogether shit-tastic poop of a week, there was some dancing the night away, screaming, and good fun. It helped me take my mind off of things, and it also helped that I was there with my two best friends.

…And that we were behind two Juggalos in line. Fucking miracles.

Some will win. Some will lose. Some were born to sing the blues.

December 2, 2010

If you haven’t noticed, I like to make my blog post titles lyrics of songs I’m listening to at the moment. I try to pick some type of related lyric to what I’m talking about in the entry. Sometimes they have nothing to do with them and they’re just cool. I don’t pick vastly popular songs, but today my Pandora gave me Don’t Stop Believin’. Oh yeah. Anyways!

#3. Sad. I stopped believin'. Didn't hold on to that feelin'.

5 Things that irritate me about the opposite sex, eh? I’m guessing this has to do with my preference, since it said opposite/same sex.

1. I hate that guys think, somehow, they’re more animalistic than girls are. They can’t control themselves, so somehow their dumb sexual actions can be justified. Bad excuse, guys. I’m not saying that guys are animals solely, because I believe that girls are just as bad as guys are. It varies person to person, it has nothing to do with whether you’re male or female. I just hate how both genders drive these wedges between one another. It’s stupid to me.

2. I don’t like that guys think they need to act all tough. I mean, sometimes I like a guy who will stand up for me and be all brave. It’s cute! However, I really like vulnerable, emotional people. I like people who feel deeply, who aren’t afraid to show how they really feel.

3. Morning wood. Don’t poke me with it. I’m sleepy.

4. I don’t like how guys are astounded that I know dorky things/the internet. I’m actually a pretty well-rounded girl. I know a lot of things about many facets of life, so don’t be surprised if I start talking about your sports team, video games, or literature. I guess it goes in conjunction that guys don’t think girls can like cars, shoot whiskey, or do any of those other “manly” things. I bet I could take a shot better than 90% of the men who may read these things, ah thank you very much. I also don’t like how guys are allowed to sleep around and girls aren’t! I mean, sure we all can, but I’m a ho if I do it. A guy is OOOOH A PLAYAAAA.

5. I’m having a hard time coming up with a 5th one, since I honestly don’t have qualms with the male gender as a whole. I sometimes feel like I get along with guys better than I do with girls. I get along with girls if they’re laid back, not stuck up, and willing to just be cool people. Thankfully, all of the girls I associate with are just as such. However, when first meeting people, I just find it easier to strike up a conversation with a guy. I would have an easier time writing about 5 things I don’t like about people in general. I don’t really like to set guys and girls apart for many things. Sexually, yes, because I’m only attracted to males, but other than that…there’s no real difference to me. I guess.

That was such a cop-out 5th thing but it’s true. I quite frankly love men and really just can’t say too many bad things about them. ;P

All we care about is runway models, cadillacs, and liquor bottles.

December 1, 2010

Allllriiiiiiightttt blog #2 in the dual 30 day challenge!

#2. Happy.

Hot chocolate. Pajama pants. Christmas tree. I am what they call, “livin’ the dream.”

Prompt #2: A famous person I’ve been compared to.

Quite honestly, I very rarely…or never…get compared to anyone famous. The one I can recall is that I’ve been told I resemble a “Brown Lady Gaga” on more than one occasion. That might be because I have a large nose. And nothing else.

I went to see Lady Gaga on December 1, 2009. OH MAH GAWD A YEAR AGO, just about. I suppose if you slap a blonde wig on me, sunglasses, a skimpy outfit, and dominatrix boots, then put me under harsh fluorescent lighting I look like Lady Gaga. Some guy in the 7-11 by the Wang Theater approached me to confirm whether or not I was Lady Gaga. I’m not exactly sure what he said. I know that he approached me and asked me where I was from…because he had to make sure I wasn’t her. Interesting.

I also had a couple of girls approach me in line and ask to take a picture with me after I recanted the tale of the random guy in 7-11. I suppose that they agreed with the guy with the teardrop tattoo under his eye…but at least I was in very poor city lighting. What a good show that was!

I’m pleased that I’m not like any celebrity though. To make myself feel better during those “celebrity doppelganger” weeks, I just tell myself that I’m a unique snowflake and I am too special to resemble someone else. My favorite Disney Princess is Esmeralda. Oh my GAWD fierce bitch. Can she count as my famous person?

Maybe you can help me! Who do I remind you of?

Say, how’d you like to run away from these machines?

November 30, 2010

So I found these two 30 day challenges. I saw them popping up around imgfave, so I figured…why not combine the two? One’s a facial expression challenge and the other is just…a Tumblr challenge apparently but whatever. It’s cool.

The cool lack of alignment with them shows how gross I am and how I don’t know how the internet works or how to many anything pretty. Okay. so I have to take a picture of my mug.


#1. Regular face...or pissed face?

#1. The person I like and why I like him.

Wouldn’t it be horrendous if I didn’t put my boyfriend as the subject of my “like” in my blog entry? That is a level of bitchery I don’t think I’ll ever attain. Or, hopefully will never attain. I can do that level of bitch, but I reserve it for special situations. Back to the point of the question. I really don’t like being public about my feelings towards significant other(s), since we all know you can (or, at least I know I can…) feel things for a few people at once. I just don’t like being mushy outwardly. I put on this “tough bitch” facade I guess when I talk about relationships. And things. It’s so uncomfortable for me. I know that I could have avoided this entire situation by just not doing the challenge but I like to write, and this massacres my writer’s block for 30 days.

I keep digressing. I’m going to explain this in perhaps the least sentimental way someone can. The only person who needs to know the mushy, maudlin,  aspect of this is my boyfriend. SO! I like this guy. We’re dating. He goes by the name of Zachary, however, he prefers to be addressed as Zach. Sometimes I call him Zachary because I’m difficult and I like it better. He doesn’t complain. We met by chance on some drunken night, so of course the exchange of so much more information than the other needed to know occurred. I thought he was a STRAPPING YOUNG LAD because he’s good looking (I’m embarrassing myself) anddddd a good kisser, interesting, a good listener, funny, all of that jazz, so I was pleased that he wanted to exist in my life! I had no intent on dating him, or anyone, when we met and subsequently went on dates, but we know how that turned out.

Over time and over a bunch of bumps we really don’t need to address, I grew an affinity for the ginormous goof. One thing that I really like about him is that he has never made me feel stupid. I can say loads of unintelligible, shallow, and otherwise generally nonsensical things and he doesn’t get all high-and-mighty on my ass. Even though he fakes arrogance (or is it conceitedness? He has tried to explain the difference to me multiple times…) I don’t really feel condescension from him.

He’s really easy to talk to. Opening up isn’t something that I do easily or willingly. Generally, you have to get me at a thorough level of intoxication to get me to talk. Given, our preliminary heart to hearts were of the drunken sort, they ended up more frequently occurring when we were both sober. I didn’t feel any need to hold back when we spoke in the “getting to know you” phase, and even now, I have a willingness to express my feelings. Sometimes I don’t like to, but that’s just in my nature. I don’t think he realizes how much I say to him that I would otherwise refuse. Of course there is a lot of, “What’s up?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” “Tell me.” “No.” “Tell me.” “…Okay.” That goes on, but generally I don’t concede! I don’t! I’ll talk a big talk about whatever, act like I’m invincible, like nothing really matters to me. I’ll bellow, “FUCK BITCHES GET MONEY,” but I’m actually really sensitive. I don’t like addressing that side, but he makes it a lot easier to let the guard down.

The main draw was that he gets me. Like he’s been there you know? I like people who have life experiences, who can relate to me. I’m a heavy thinker, over-analyzer, worrier, dramatic, insane sort. I’m not saying he’s the same, because we’re actually pretty different, but he understands the emotional depth involved with me. It isn’t to say other people aren’t capable of comprehending the emotional depth, but I guess I don’t feel so guilty exposing him to mine. If this makes any sense at all…I just feel everything intensely. And he gets it. Sometimes. Most of the time. Maybe. I hope. I dunno. I usually feel extremely guilty admitting to anyone that I’m having a bad day, but I like that I don’t feel the guilt with him. I can admit these things and he’ll try to cheer me up.


I just guess he came at an interesting time for me. THAT I will barely get into. However, I wanted someone who made me feel normal. ANALOGY TIME! I felt like an antique toy. People are careful with you, put you on shelves, and take care of you. This is for the best. People love you, the toy, and don’ t want you to break. It’s cool and all, comes from a great place, but you’re a toy. That’s not what you were made for. You’re supposed to be outside of shelves and boxes. You’re supposed to experience things and a shelf is just where you go so people don’t hurt themselves on you while traversing through a dark room. I felt like he was taking me off of my shelf and into the world. He helped with a transition I really, really needed and I’m very grateful for that.

I feel like I’m being long-winded. Some of the other stuff is mushy and embarrassing and we all know how much I hate being, you know, emotionally vulnerable and things like that. Time to cut this short before I further embarrass myself with my stories of fondness.

Emotions are so gross.

Shut your eyes and sing to me.

November 17, 2010

So call me a masochist or call me weird or something, but I think that some of the best art/music/writing comes out of suffering, and oh, my friends, I am strugglin’.

It’s 1:06 AM. I have been studying all day, copying notes, writing journal entries, going to class, taking tests, and napping. I could be fast asleep, reading, watching TV, but I am choosing to write. Writing is one of the few things I feel an intense, unbreakable love for in my life. Writing is the only thing that makes sense to me. It’s one of the few things that feels natural; to me, writing is as necessary and natural as breathing.

I just got distracted for almost 20 minutes but I suppose that’s what happens when I have a minute to assess my life. My times. I’m going to make no sense and this is going to be marvelous.

It’s hard for a person like me to be a functional member of society. I might seem disorganized, frazzled, and irresponsible–like I have my priorities all wrong. Well, maybe the life that’s expected of me puts priorities in the wrong order. That sounds like I don’t want to take responsibility for my actions, and believe me, I would take responsibility for them if I felt the need to. I’m not one to shrug of my mistakes. Ever. I just don’t think that a practical life is the one that I really feel like I should be living. I don’t take much joy in organizing things, I hate forms, I hate sheets, I hate deadlines, I hate schedules.

It sounds like I don’t like school, but I do like it. I enjoy (some) of my classes very much. I like doing my work sometimes. It’s often stressful, but at the end of it I like having a concrete representation of something I’ve learned. That much structure has been drilled into my head, at least. I, however, find little joy in things that I have no particular interest in. I have a pretty fierce independent streak if I am impassioned about an area of my life. If I don’t care, tell me what to do, I’ll do it.

I guess I’m just restless. I’m learning all of these things–about dopamine cells not occurring in the substantia nigra which terminates in the basal ganglia, that phenylalanine can lead to mental retardation, that Schoenberg liked to use the chromatic scale, but what does it even mean, anyways? I’m always looking for some stupid deeper meaning in my life and, god damn it, I’m 20 years old. It’s not happening any time soon, is it? I’m supposed to be doomed to some shallow developmental existence and I hate it. Then, I get older and I get pissed off that I’m losing my carefree youth. This is just a splendid example of how I don’t know what I want. Ever. Do I want a meaningful life or do I want capricious fun?

It’s so hard to fit into a world where you feel like you don’t belong. I’m not even talking about my school or my friends, because I do feel a nice sense of belonging amongst them. Somehow, I’ve found people who get me. I just feel like my role in society is very much…undetermined. I’m little Anita, barely can remember what I had for breakfast, can’t do addition or subtraction all that well, what good am I? Writing dumb, rambling things is something I’m not particularly good at, but I feel very strongly for it. I feel as though blogging, like this, spewing feelings into a box could make me feel like I have meaning. Of course, it could never be my livelihood. It really is unfortunate that our passion has to be our livelihood–or at least that’s how I see it. I’m very much interested in being a psychologist, given that’s what I’ve been going to college for. I’m just afraid of failure. It’s so real-world. I’m so…detached from the whole actually leading a real life thing. I’m much better suited to sit here and ramble…but if I end up without any money I wouldn’t get wifi, so I couldn’t ramble to anyone but the people in the streets. I’m not sure how well passersby would take to that.

I just want so many things that aren’t practical for me, and oh, how I hate practicality.

I fought the law and the law won.

July 1, 2010

Well, I didn’t really. Some other guy fought the law and neither he, nor the law, won.

As a lot of people know, since I made it my Facebook status, I had Jury duty on Tuesday. However, unlike 14 other people who showed up that day, I actually got picked to be seated on a jury. This entry is probably going to be really long, but I’ll describe the process, the case, and the drama. Oh, my friends, it would not be my life if some serious shit did not go on during this deliberation.

I arrived at the Woburn Courthouse (in the center) bright and early at 8:30. Sitting in a room awkwardly with a bunch of strangers is extremely unsettling. Thank you A Rumor of War for keeping me some quality company for a few hours. We passed in our sheets and got assigned a number. We had a coffee break before we got interviewed by the judge in the courtroom, but it was so hot I didn’t even want to be outside! The interactions between people seemed very limited. A few middle-aged women seemed to bond, but that was about it.

We were seated in the court room in numerical order and had to swear we would tell the truth. Then, each of us was asked if we knew the defendant, if we or anyone we knew had been involved in a drunk driving case, and if anyone we or anyone we knew was/is in a group such as MADD or SADD. When he called me up (Juror #18) I’m not gonna lie, I was nervous. These people were so official and I’m some awkward 20-year-old who has a very limited knowledge of how these things work. The judge was very cordial (one of my fellow jurors said he looked like Dumbledore hehe) and he asked me a few questions. He re-hashed that I didn’t know anyone in a drunk driving case, nor did I know anyone in MADD or SADD. He also asked me what I studied, and then if I knew about alcohol disorders, which I didn’t. He then told me to sit on the jury. After everyone had been interviewed, the judge turned to those of us in the jury box, smiled, and said “We now have a jury.” I just about pooped myself. He dismissed the other jurors and the guy next to me, in the jury box, got up to leave because he thought he had been dismissed as well. This information is vital for my later rant.

The case began immediately after. The defendant was charged with an OUI (Operating Under the Influence). I’ll be brief with the details since the deliberation was the good part! Both sides were very convincing. We knew he admitted to drinking after work (3/4 beers around/ending at 10:30), smoking marijuana before work, his tire crossed the yellow lines, he was pulled over at 2:30 AM, his field sobriety test was kind of good kind of bad. I got to hear from three police officers, one sergeant, which was pretty cool. I had to contain my giddiness when “OBJECTION!” was said. However, it was more like “objection.” But I could pretend, right? We were then informed we got an hour lunch break, so we headed out and I got my coffee I so desperately needed. We weren’t allowed to acknowledge anyone involved in the case (the prosecution was in Dunks with me haha!) and then we headed back to the court.

After lunch, we got to see the booking video. This is where I started feeling bad, since you all know I’m a big softie. The defendant wasn’t belligerent in the video, nor did he seem drunk. He seemed very tired since the video took place from a little before 3 AM to around 3:30. The defendant was very polite, nervous, and conscientious of his friends. He didn’t want to call them to get him since it was very late. He mentioned that he was trying to get his life together (there was an ounce of marijuana in the car and a “pipe”) and sometimes he did silly things like that. I. Felt. So. Bad. He seemed to be a good guy. We all make mistakes, if he was even impaired at all, and I wanted to forgive him. I wanted to stand up and be like, “Hey, being here sucks, right? You won’t do this again because clearly this entire situation blows.” I looked over at him and gave him sympathetic eyes when we made eye contact ahaha. Me.

Oh, a few times the jury had to be excused so they could talk about stuff without us there, so we got to know each other before deliberation.

So, it’s around 3 PM and we get through all of the evidence and we can finally deliberate! Here’s the cast of characters/fellow jurors. I’ll give them nicknames so you can follow the story. There was a man wearing a polo both days who I will call Polo, a woman with a daughter at BHS who I will call the Mother, a guy who worked with kids in speech therapy who I will call Therapist (he knew Henna and Jessa’s moms! Just throwing that out there! lololol), the Head Juror (a lady), and the Issue…who was an issue. We also had an alternate who couldn’t sit in on deliberations.

Now, we had a nice grown-up conversation for an hour. We went over the facts. Talked. Listened. Respected one another. It was a very positive experience…for the first hour. Essentially, we decided that since he had smoked marijuana early in the day, he’d be feeling a little more tired/relaxed. Then, he worked a long day at work so he’d be tired as well. After these beers, whether he was drunk or not at the time of the arrest/encounter, he would still be even more tired since alcohol is a depressant. Under the influence actually doesn’t mean drunk (which I didn’t know!). It means the alcohol affected him, which made him tired later. We decided that all of the factors together made him very tired, which caused him to drive poorly. Well, five of us agreed on it anyway.

This is where Issue comes in. I understand that some people won’t agree or understand. Everyone’s different. We all tried to verbally convince him since honestly, the evidence was, well, evident and pointed to one thing. We all ended up getting frustrated since we wanted to leave and Issue just kept plodding on about nothing important. I ended up writing on a white board in the room so he could PHYSICALLY SEE he believed all of the criteria for guilty. He agreed WITH EVERY POINT of guilt. Then, Issue tries to say that we don’t know the Blood Alcohol Content. We were never given it and he insists he needs it, and we all insist that it’s not necessary to be drunk to be impaired. Now, frustration is mounting because Issue apparently can’t make a decision without water in the room, which he spilled everywhere. We also weren’t allowed to leave the room (there were two bathrooms there) but he insisted on leaving multiple times to use a bathroom. The bailiff was pissed. Issue tried to get me to call for more water. I felt bad for Head Juror because I think he kind of latched on to her and tried to make her agree with his decisions/actions/choices because at one point she wasn’t absolutely positive on supporting guilty.

Eventually, we try to satiate Issue by asking the judge a question on a slip of paper. Polo has been silent, Mother has been helping out, Therapist is flustered, and Head Juror tries to remain courteous (which she was!). Right as we try to scramble to get the question, we are dismissed at 5:00 and asked to come back the next day.

We all remain calm for a little while when we come in at 9:00. Issue needs to know what impaired/OUI means even though it was clearly outlined. Mother very patiently jots down his question in eloquent wording. The bailiff took the paper, gave it to the judge, and we came back. We received the definition. He then claims he didn’t understand it or he didn’t get the right definition or some bull.  He also says he needs to know the type of car (which we were told was a sedan) the exact size of the tire, the weather (which we were told NUMEROUS times was clear), the BAC (which we were  never going to get), and all of these other stupid criteria that were either outlined or impossible to get. He was just saying things that didn’t make sense. He said “on my conscience I can’t…” and Therapist and I tried to explain how your conscience has to go out the window in a case like this. Head Juror agreed with Therapist and me when we said we’re sorry about this whole ordeal because the defendant seemed like a nice guy. Issue then claimed we were impartial. Ugh. Later he talked about how we was pulled over for drunk driving, and then I jump down his throat about being impartial.

He then says that without knowing bullshit things like the width of the tire, he can’t say “guilty” so he chooses “not guilty.” We make the judge aware of this, but the judge encouraged us to make a unanimous decision. Polo started losing his cool (which he kept very well), Mother kept her composure extremely well, Therapist got exasperated, and Head Juror was getting very annoyed as well. Issue kept asking things that just were not relevant, or things we already knew. At one point he said, “How do we know he drank that night?” Issue, the defendant admitted it. This is when I lost it. I had to say what everyone else was thinking.

I said, “If we’re gonna be real here, you clearly do not have an understanding of this case. You did not listen at all during the trial.” He claims he only listens to “important things.” Whatever. I wrote on the question sheet if we could trade out one incompetent juror for the alternate. Shit started getting sooooo real here, guys. Issue snaps at me because I’m 20 and I apparently don’t know anything. I also don’t have a degree, so clearly he and his psychology degree from Northeastern (which we all found questionable haha) make him a more valid juror than I. So he tells me “What do you know? You’re 20 and I have a degree.” Oh bitch please. I go off on him and tell him “The court selected ME. I am an ADULT. I am JUST as qualified as you are to be here…” etc. etc. Then he started being like “LISTEN, BABE” and called me babe. Twice.

Oh. Hell. No.

I lost it. I absolutely lost it. I was so appalled and offended that he would first be ageist against me but then use this condescending gross almost kind of sexist word against me? I know it seems stupid to get PISSED at being called babe, but the jury is a place of mutual respect. I was just saying what everyone else didn’t want to say to him. I went off. I waved the finger. I yelled. I was like, “Don’t you DARE call me babe. You have NO RIGHT.” And he was like crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out? Really Man-Child? Really? After I was done yelling, I was so mad, I couldn’t hear. I know Polo yelled, Mother Yelled, Therapist yelled, Head Juror yelled. Everyone was yelling at him because they, just like I, did not appreciate an unwarranted personal attack on me. I appreciated them for having my back. Issue runs off to the bathroom and SLAMS and I mean SLAMMED the door. Therapist said, “There were puffs of ceiling!” So we’re all kind of terrified. I added “belligerent” to the incompetent juror question to the judge. Head Juror calls him an idiot, we seethe. Mother tells me how brave I am, haha! Issue comes back in and is silent. Bailiff takes our paper and we’re called back. The judge declares a mistrial and says he will see us back in the deliberation room.

The judge meets us in the room and says he is honestly disappointed we couldn’t make a decision. Everyone knew in that court room what was up. Everyone. I’m sure the judge knew what happened, the Bailiff, the attorneys, everyone. It was a real shame.

Issue left us, and Therapist, Polo, Head Juror, and I heatedly discussed in the parking lot. Something was wrong with this guy. We have no clue what. He treated it like it was a murder case on Law and Order. We’re like, buddy, it’s not that serious. This isn’t TV. Mother and Alternate Juror came over a little later. We asked Alternate what her thoughts were. She said, “Oh, not guilty, for sure.” We’re all kind of like “Oh….” and then she said, “Nah, he was totally guilty are you kidding me?” We rehashed all of the details and she was shocked as well. No one in that courtroom thought this case was going to see a second day. There was no reason it had to.

In closing, though, I don’t want to discourage anyone from jury duty. I’m upset my experience had to be a negative one. Honestly, this one juror ruined it for everyone. It could have been a great experience! The trial itself was a little boring at times, but it was really cool to be a part of it. It is truly an interesting experience, and enlightening, because I had no idea the technicalities of the OUI law. I enjoyed listening to the different lawyers spin the tale to their side. The videos and the inside glimpse into the legal system was a unique and interesting experience!

I’m saddened, though, that this is how the system works. Incompetent Man-children like Issue are allowed to make these decisions. Luckily, everyone else on the jury was sound of mind enough to give the opposite verdict. It’s so moronic that this defendant has to get re-tried in possibly November because of a verdict that was so obvious.

Oh, the life. Oh the times!

Sadly, there was no gavel! 😦 Haha

Even if you went with me, I’m not the girl you think I am.

June 19, 2010

Today, I was munching on Special K and flipping through channels at some hour far too late to be considered breakfast, as usual. Nothing of interest was on, so I settled on MTV because there’s always something good to rot my brain there. I thought Never Been Kissed was going to be on, but it was some stupid show called When I Was 17. That detail is inconsequential to the topic.

So, being a True Life enthusiast (yes, there have been marathons of that and yes, I have watched them) I couldn’t help but notice a commercial for some show called The Hard Times of RJ Berger came on a lot. The plot seems to be that this RJ character is a geek, but because he has a huge penis, he’s suddenly cool. I’ve noticed more and more in popular culture that being this geeky, uncool character has somehow become…cool? I mean, come on, people like Michael Cera were just awkward before his movies started coming out. Now he’s awkward and charming because of said awkwardness.

But it doesn’t work for everyone. I haven’t quite figured out  the key as to what separates the actual dorks from the pseudo-dorks. I mean, there’s the whole socially awkward bit that geeks have always been portrayed as having. (And yes, I’m going to use geek, nerd, and dork interchangeably. I don’t see a difference and I don’t care if there is one.) I personally see myself as geeky. I thoroughly enjoy infographs, the internet, anime, video games, and…honestly I’m sure a good majority of what I do could be considered geeky. I just don’t notice it. However, I consider myself very socially-well adjusted. I’m usually very shy when people first meet me, unless I’m drunk, but I find it harder to not get along with people than to get along with them. Does that somehow counteract my geekiness?

I’m certainly not one of those psuedo-geeks. When I think of them I think of hipsters. I really don’t like hipsters and I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t judge people before I get to know them and I’m sure as individual people they are all wonderful, however, as a whole they make me cringe. I mean, why is it so in? You’re dressing like a homeless person and being an enthusiast of the nerdy things I like. I guess it’s cool I can buy a Yoshi and Pikachu t-shirt in a mainstream store now, but really? This was my turf, guys! Back off! Something else I’ve noticed is that graphic novels have become more popular. I know manga’s not cool, but that’s the kind I own. Still, a step towards geekdom.

In short, I guess I just don’t know how to feel about this praise of being an outcast. I’m sure my closer friends will agree with me. All of our lives, we’ve been on the outskirts of the social ladder, and hell, we didn’t care. We were happy because we never faked anything; we did what we wanted and we acted the way we felt. In that way, we were very lucky. I never feel like I had to pretend not to like something, and I think my friends felt the same way. I guess that’s why we’re such genuine people. 🙂

But, something to much on. We were uncool before being uncool was cool, and in that, we are the coolest of them all. RIGHT?

Get the hell out of my my geekdom, hipsters. (photo from