Unofficially Undecided.

"What are you planning on majoring in?"

"So, what are you going to school for?"

"What do you want to do?"

These three questions are evil. EVIL. Why are they evil? I'm glad you asked...

There is no right answer. Not only is there not a right answer, but there also isn't an acceptable one. 

If you say something artsy like Interior Design then you're a right-brained freak that is completely impractical. If you say something mathy like Aerospace Engineering then you're a left-brainer that is reaching for a "very competitive" career. And GOD FORBID if you're going into the fine arts. Then you're really not thinking clearly because no one actually makes it in Hollywood or New York "not from this town."

Pre-Med is conformist. Psychology will land you jobless. Philosophy is ridiculous. And any study of politics is futile, unless of course you're planning on becoming a lawyer.

Oh, but wait..you want to be a lawyer? Why would you ever want to do that? You won't have a personal life. 

You just can't win. It's impossible.

So a voice in the back of your mind tells you not to pick anything. "Don't commit. It's the only way not to screw up." And suddenly a feeling of relief...Undecided.

"Undecided???" Wow, you must have no clue what direction you want to go in life. You have zero drive and very little motivation. Oh you know what you don't want to do... "Well that's a start." (LOL THAT'S CUTE.)

Now, I'll admit that not everyone responds this way to your answers to the above questions. There are many who understand that Undecided doesn't equate to Unsuccessful, and Pre-Med doesn't mean you're the next McDreamy. 

The unfortunate truth is when it comes to majors and what people think, its a lot like The Breakfast Club's very accurate assessment of virginity...

So be unofficially undecided. The pentacle of all noncommittal things. And if you want to major in the mastery of puppetry, you go right ahead.

Party Psychology.

Alright, so I'm a nerd. You caught me. But I simply had to write this post.

Welcome to Party Psych 101. Alternative name: Gatsby 101.

I once had a dear friend tell me how much enjoyed seeing people intoxicated because it showed their true selves. At the time I disagreed. My point being that we all try so hard to put up our little façade and I wouldn't wish the destruction of that comfy cozy shell of a faux life that most of us lead.

That view point has changed. Because as the psychoanalytical nerd I am, being able to rip off that level of protection to see the real person underneath is an nigh-impossibility. Of course that all changes when the red cups come out.

So far here are the characters I have discerned from previous events:

The Captain: 

The so-called controller of the festivities. Seems to keep everything running fairly smoothly. Cuts people off. The protector, etc. etc. Basically without The Captain the whole thing would go to absolute fucking shit because everyone would be so unreasonably far gone that everyone would die. That may be an exaggeration, but…ja feel? 

The First Mate:

Lines frequently said by The First Mate:

"LOLOLOLOLOL OHMERGAEWD AHAHA…wait what."

"Oh godddz vat is going on?"

"Ayyyyeee. Ayyyee. Wait, are we going downstairs now?"

I could go on, but I think you understand. The First Mate seems to be attempting to help the captain. But well….they're a little fuzzy on the whole reality thing. Don't worry they'll be fine in the morning.

The Madame:

A personal favorite of mine. The Madame. He or she, for some indiscernible reason likes to pair people up at parties. Not subtly..obviously. At first it's kind of endearing, the whole "You should totally be together." But three hours later when The Madame is whoring one of you out to the other it gets kinda weird….

The Warden:

The keeper of the keys so to speak. They are in charge of the goods and who gets them, usually given this duty by The Captain. They work to keep a sort of checks-and-balances thing going on. If The Captain should fall prey to the situation, The Warden steps up. As much as this seems like a good idea, it usually fails because well this happens…

The Countess:

The Countess starts out as all fun and games, but slowly and then very very quickly they become the biggest pain in the ass you've ever met. They absorb every bit of self-importance, righteousness, and vanity that they've been repressing. They then proceed to release it all at once. Funny, if you're not the target. The Countess loses friends in the morning…if they remember what she said.

The Crew:

The Crew requires very little explanation. They're the people who populate the party but have no discernible presence. Although they all have their attributes displayed below…..

Love yours truly,

The Observer:

The person who watches all this unfold and then blogs about it…

Fine, Girls Suck Too.

I bet you didn't see this coming…. However, in the spirit of the equality that I'm always advocating for, I feel the innate need to point out that yes, girls suck too.

In my previous post, I'll admit I victimized myself a bit.

"Oh woe is me, he flirted with me even though he had a girlfriend..boohoo boohoo"
*throws arm over head and faints from trauma*

But, the truth is I was every bit as involved as he was.

Was it kinda shitty that he made a pass at me even though he was already in a "committed monogamous relationship?"

Yes.

But was it naive of me to think that he was actually in a serious committed monogamous relationship with a high schooler while he was on his way to college?

Absolutely.

The real issue here is, frankly, at 18 we all think we're all grown ups with serious issues and all that jazz. When really we're in college living a pretty privileged life, if you ask me.

I digress…girls suck too.

And I whole-heartily apologize for my earlier post, seeing myself as the sole victim in a situation that I was equally tied up in.

See, a few years ago I was having this discussion with someone else and he said something I hadn't thought of before:

"Girls always think that boys are the bad guys. We break hearts. We cheat. We lie. We 're no good losers or Mama's boys or spoiled or whatever other label they can give us. But it works both ways…Girls break hearts. Girls cheat. Girls lie. And every good rock, R&B, jazz, country, pop, or folk song is about a girl that is either making or breaking a guy's life….but usually breaking. And I think that you all  get so caught up in your own damn feelings that you forget we…the male population… also have feelings and emotions."

And in that moment my entire view on the world was rearranged. That sounds silly, I know. But before that conversation I had never even stopped to consider that guys feel the same way about stuff that girls do. And that we were all both the victims and the assailants.

Girls scratch and claw and bite. We fight. We hiss. We're scary and weird. We're all a little "dark and twisty" on the inside. We tear things apart. We're generally vindictive etc etc

And so are boys.

At the end of the day, when we've all fought the good fight, none of us are really better than anyone else.

Boys suck.
Girls suck.
We all kind of suck.

And in that we should rejoice. Finally, some common ground in this age old battle of estrogen v. testosterone.

The Morning Cuppa.

For you non-Brits out there, I'll start with a translation:

Cuppa

British slang for A-CUP-OF tea

Man 1: Oi, Fancy a cuppa?

Man 2: Cream no sugar, ta

That's right, a cuppa. The morning cuppa to be more exact. As in, during the toasty summer months when I have retired my school books and started to regain my sense of humanity, I wake up and drink a cup of hot tea. Tetley, British Blend.

I realize that this all sounds quite quaint and calm. It's easy to imagine me pensively looking out a window while wrapped in the finest cashmere and sipping hot tea in the most delicate way possible. However, that's not exactly what happens. What usually occurs is a series of sad events that vaguely resembles the process of a bear waking up from hibernation.

I wake up feeling like I've been hit by a bus (regardless of the previous night's activities) and roll out of bed with the subtlety of a nine-pound hammer. I stomp and trudge my way to the bathroom, take care of whatever I need to, and then before opening up the door I look in the mirror. (Why I do this I'm still not sure.) I am constantly disgraced by the reflection that stares back (but that's another story.) I drag my hands down my face and peak through the spaces between my fingers, drag my hands back up my face and through my hair, look down, place my hands on my sink and look back in the mirror. Half groan. Cough. Take a deep breath. Roll my shoulders back. Open the door, and begin my day.

The above is carried out flawlessly, and during this time, I refuse to acknowledge my existence to the outside world. But when I emerge from my cave, I attempt to be on par with the rest of society.

Anyway, back to the cuppa..

By the time I've made it halfway down the stairs, my wonderful father has already put the kettle on. He wishes me a good morning and kisses me on the cheek. This is usually paired with something along the lines of  "There's my beautiful baby girl!" Something that I'll admit never gets old. Although my crooked smile when he says this is usually laced with the thought of the view I just saw in the mirror.

I sit down on the floor in the living room in front of the coffee table and begin to watch the Morning Show or whatever is currently flashing on the television screen. He brings in our tea and he sits down on the couch adjacent to me. This is the starting point of my day. Our conversations range from human rights and politics to the old television shows he used to watch as a child to simple caustic remarks at the expense of the personalities on our screen.

The morning cuppa is so much more than a teabag, hot water, milk, and sugar. It's a ritual. It's the transitory period between the bear and the baby girl. And without it, I'm not sure what I'd do.

But with it I do know that post-water-bottle-incident Marco Rubio is a less confident figure, body language makes all the difference, tattoos on women in the workplace are still a no-no, Andy Griffith was from North Carolina, JFK's win against Nixon can be partially attributed to his acceptance of make-up during the televised debate and largely attributed to his good looks in general, I can be bossy and need to be careful how I approach situations, and every story told in this family is by extension my own.

The morning cuppa, 'tis a powerful thing.

Boys suck.

Sooo this rant has been a long time coming, but I've just recently found the time to sit down and yell at my computer so here it is:

I REALLY FREAKING HATE BOYS

(Okay so I totally love boys but right now I'm wishing I didn't)

Gentlemen, do YOU THINK THIS IS A GAME?!

Obviously, you do. Let me shed some light on this situation. It isn't. I am not a toy. So don't fucking play with me. Also, I'm actually a decent individual with.... oh I don't know... MORALS. So your implications that I would be okay with being the other woman don't really fly with me.

"Yeah I have a girlfriend but...college next year..ayyee"

Seriously? How 'bout nah bruh.

I'm getting really sick and tired of this game. How is it that I am continuously stuck in the role of home wrecker? I promise you, I don't try to put myself in-between couples...and yet I seem to get stuck there an awful lot. So am I just imagining it? Is it me? Is it just boys in general?

God help me.

"Fuck boys but also fuck boys u feel me"

A free elf.

The school year has finally come to a close. And I am finally a free elf. Finally. After grueling years of high school education I am finally free. Now off to university...

This sounds so menial really. Like wahoo I finished high school. Whoopdee-freaking-doo. And honestly I feel the same way to a certain extent. Apparently, I'm still not a full formed person anyway. Just a kid heading off to college. That's all.

But let me put it to you this way:

For four years I have been dragged through the rocky mountains of public education and have lived to tell the tale. (More like barely survived to be honest...but whatever.) That's pretty impressive.

The words of Alice Cooper's "School's out" has never been filled with so much justice as it is now.

Freedom. Sweet blissful freedom.

But what the hell do I do with it?

I mean let's be honest I've never done this before. I went to college orientation and for dinner I ate a slice of pizza, strawberry yogurt with granola, fruit, and a cookie. I obviously don't know how to survive in the real world.

No more pencils. No more books. No more teachers, dirty looks.

This is true. I now have Macs, iBooks, Professors, and walks of same ahead of me.

In all honesty, I'm terrified. It's a great big world out there. And I'm just a little elf.

Upside down.

Is it the world or is it just me? Is everything else spinning? Is it the world that's crazy and erratic? Or is it me? Am I close to collapsing or is it the universe that's ready to give up and implode? Which one of us is upside down here?

I realize this isn't exactly the most unique thought I've ever had. There are plenty of narcissist writers that question the world and the wrongness of it all. And most of them go mad anyway. So you'll have to forgive me for this somewhat trite message I wish to convey. 

Here I am trudging through my last few months of high school, and I'm practically clawing my way to the finish line. I only have two real months left of school. I'm so close. I'm so close it hurts. Everyone has experienced senioritis in one form or another. We've all wanted to be done with something. Just to have it finished. And like most, I am struck with an acute sense of apathy for most things that involve my high school. 

I've always been more of an observer when it comes to large interactions. Don't get me wrong I can command the attention of an entire room in a heartbeat. But that's only if I choose to be that version of myself. I like to observe. I like to watch and see what happens. I know that sounds like I'm some sort of creep, but really I just find human interaction fascinating. There is so much intricacy in one movement or facial expression...and I'm stopping myself right there before I start fangirling...I digress. 

The point is I just have this overwhelming feeling that there is so little humanity left in the human race. It seems every situation I watch unfold is met with animosity and hatred and just plain meanspiritedness. It's disgusting. I concede that love is out there. It is a part of our world and plenty of people are more loving and caring then they are sinister. But I've stopped seeing it.

So is it me? Has my perception just changed? Or is it really the world changing for the worse?

Perhaps it's just the people I'm around. I'm sure they're just as ready to get out of this soul-devouring hell hole. Maybe they're just handling it differently than I am. Maybe... 

Soon. Soon, we'll all be done. And I will hopefully live in a different sphere of this universe. One with people that can see past people's imperfections and view people holistically. I dream of equality. Is that too much to ask for? One day. One day.. maybe everything won't be so upside down.

A Recanted Tale.

Him. Turned out to be a product of those "oh so cruel" rumours I thought he was victim to.

Him. Turned out to revel in those rumours.

Him. Turned out to be a case that exceeded my abilities.

Truth be told, if I could have saved him I would have. There's nothing more painful than watching someone who you idealize go up in smoke. It wasn't so much that I watched his downfall. It was just that I realized he was already at the bottom when I found him. But as I mentioned previously, he has a knack for carrying his grandeur. This ability must have allowed him to fake his sense of wonder.

That first moment. That look. That will continue to stay true. And in its purest form it shall not die.

But him. He proved to be no more than a nice guy with a bounty of issues I couldn't possibly bear to handle.

And our "new found" connection had a steep downhill trajectory with an unfathomable velocity. From that moment on, our "partnership" was rocky at best.

So this, a recanted tale, serves as a reminder that a moment can continue to bask in perfection and solidarity while the rest of the world goes to absolute shit.

And with that, I leave you for the night. I'll be back soon. (I promise...for real this time.)