Yes, I’d love some cheese with my whine!

It’s weird how things that you don’t think would bother you actually really do sometimes. You think you’re okay with it, and then it just kind of wears on you until you realize that it’s there.

This happens to me much too often, really. For example, the other day I saw my dad. He was at the same gas station as me. Just standing there. I think he was checking my phone. Odds are, he didn’t even notice I was there. But I hadn’t seen him since November of 2010 when I had dinner with him and his fiancé. It was like seeing a ghost or something. Seeing him, it’s like seeing someone from a movie. Because I have all these memories of growing up with him, and yet, I have no idea who the man standing at the gas station was.

I saw him though, and I assumed I was fine with that. I mean, I struggled with the issue of seeing my dad vs. not seeing my dad for literally years. Until I realized that I wanted my dad to be someone who he wasn’t and isn’t and likely will never be. I kept hoping that, one day, I would have dinner with him and suddenly he would be the kind of dad that I wanted. In fact, I would trick myself into thinking that he was the kind of person I wanted for my father, but then he always got in the way and messed it up. He showed who he truly was and I couldn’t lie to myself as well. And then I realized that I simply wasn’t strong enough to talk to him at all. I just so wanted him to be a good dad and when he wasn’t I’d end up depressed or angry.

It wasn’t until tonight—four days after seeing my dad—that I realized that that is what’s been bothering me. It’s so weird how it crept up on me. Surprise!


Teen Angst Never Dies

I’m mad right now. About so many things. But the primary thing that’s making me angry is the fact that my life sucks. Hard. Seriously, it’s crap.

You know the phrase “Everything happens for a reason”? Well most people realize that that’s complete bullshit. I, on the other hand, am such a profound believer in it. I believe it to the point that, when something bad happens, I think “What good opportunities will result from this?” I mean, how ridiculously naive do you have to be?

I’m typing this on my phone and don’t really have anything else to say at the moment. I just felt like I really needed to put this thought some place and this blog seemed like a good place.

Keep Calm and Play Catch Phrase

Yesterday, I was rather upset because my life sucks. I mean, my life doesn’t actually suck. I just was feeling like it did. Which was what upset me. See how that works? Woo. Anyway, I was upset, but, then, after an evening with a couple of my lovely friends I felt drastically better because they act like they like me or something. So I thought I’d take this opportunity to talk about what I did last night!

First of all, my friend Alexa and I went to the duck pond in our town. I remembered two things when I arrived there: 1) Ducks are adorable 2) I am afraid of flying animals. The first is rather obvious, the second is fairly inconvenient. Also, there was a very noisy goose (possible a gander, I don’t really know) who we decided was very grumpy and the leader of all the other ducks. Also, he was friends with one duck who appeared to have been injured and took care of him. One duck was all black, and sat on a rock by himself. We decided that he was the cool kid/loner of the ducks. I named him Benny, short for Benedict. At one point about three ducks started attacking another smaller duck, and, being animal lovers, we wanted to help the little duck. The little duck ran into the bushes with the other three in hot pursuit; we followed behind them, hoping to save the little duck that we had now named Sammy. We kept yelling things like “bad duck!” and “run away, little duck”. Finally we pulled back some bushes to find one of the big ducks sitting on top of the little duck… At that point we realized that we weren’t really saving the bird from attack, we were actually disturbing some, um, mating. And, of course, at this point, everyone in the park was looking at us. Children began asking questions, parents stared angrily at us… Needless to say, we thought it would be a good time to leave.

We decided to head across the street to the movie theater and see The Cabin in the Woods, a movie Rotten Tomatoes describes as “an astonishing meta-feat, capable of being funny, strange, and scary — frequently all at the same time”. Rotten Tomatoes, you are correct. Last night I had a dream about this movie. I can’t actually remember any events, but I wasn’t a nightmare. I was just very confused with what was happening. And the world inside my dream didn’t make sense, which seems strange, at least for me. Generally, not matter how crazy the stuff in my dream is, I still think “Yeah, of course this is happening; makes total sense.” Yeah, that didn’t happen. I felt like the world didn’t make sense because it wasn’t doing what it was supposed to. I don’t know why I’m spending this much time talking about a dream that I don’t even remember.

Finally, after that strange, strange movie, Alexa and I, along with Dean who had now joined us, went to Walmart (it’s the only thing that stays open past 11 or so, it seems) and sat on the patio furniture playing Catch Phrase. No one  said anything to us about why we were there, so we didn’t feel the need to lie to anyone, though we did practice our story of “We are shopping for patio furniture, and, since we will primarily be playing Catch Phrase on it, we need to test it out.”

So that was my Sunday night! My frown was most definitely turned upside down. At some point in time I may blog about why my frown was inverted to begin with, but probably not because I just don’t know you that well yet. But if you REALLY want me to…

Probably still won’t.

On a side note, when I looked for a picture to accompany this, I typed in ‘seductive duck’. Just in case you wondered. I mean, I couldn’t figure out how to make the picture post, but I felt like you should know.

I Left My Heart In San Francisco

Fun things you can do in San Francisco:

  • Eat at a raw vegan restaurant and hate all your food.
  • Go through a mirror maze at Fisherman’s Wharf; trample children.
  • Visit the GLBT Museum and feel stupid when you sex toys.
  • Go into Vintage Stores and pick up articles of clothing while shouting the decade it’s from.
  • Walk along Castro Street and see an old naked man with a walking stick.
  • Continue walking along Castro Street and see two younger, less wrinkly naked men.
  • Try to stay at a 50 dollar hotel in downtown San Francisco, but then get scared because it’s exactly how you imagine a 50 dollar hotel in downtown San Francisco to be.
  • Drive the wrong way on a one way street.
  • Make yourself sick eating chocolate ice cream deliciousness at Ghirardelli Square.
  • Go to Amoeba. Just do it.
  • Get into all sorts of shenanigans with your fantastic friends.



No one’s even reading this.

I haven’t written anything in a while so, uh, here’s a little but about what’s been going on in my incredibly exciting life recently…

Last Friday, (not four days ago, but like a week and a half ago) I went to give blood with my brother and friend. I didn’t actually want my brother to go, because all my friends are like social activists (I kind of am too) and my brother doesn’t know how to, like, not offend people. Racial slurs, crude jokes, and just generally loutish behavior abound; my friends are unimpressed. In fact, my friend Dean, who I was with, pretty much wants nothing to do with him. Anyway, I went to the place and freaked out as usual because I’m terrified of blood. But this time I just breathed deeply and thought of my favorite place in San Francisco and everything was good! Personal triumph. Some people think it’s weird that I give blood even though it scares me a lot. But I just think, The people that receive my blood, I bet they’re a lot more scared. I know I’m not going to die because I get a needle stuck in my arm and get some blood taken. But the people that get my blood–they probably will die without it. I don’t know. It just makes sense to me. What’s a little fear? Ugh, I keep getting off topic. Anyway, we gave blood and then we started talking about our blood pressures and pulses. I was saying that mine was high because I was nervous, but that it’s usually around 70 beat per minute. Then my brother was like, “No, it’s not.” And I’m like “Yes… yes it is.” And he’s like “No, I’m in excellent shape and mine is around 60 normally. You barely ever work out; your’s must be in the 80s.” I tried to tell him that the doctor had told me it was 72 the last time I went, but he told me they were wrong. He then proceeded to tell me how awesome smoking and drinking is right after you give blood.I believe I am losing my mind some days. Then I went back to my house. Shortly after I was going to drive to dinner with one of my friends. I was feeling really light headed because of the blood donation thing though, so I ended up backing into my friend’s car. I then burst into tears. My friend told me it wasn’t a big deal, but, being me, it seemed like a colossal deal. I was going to drink but my friend convinced me not to. Then we went to Cici’s and I ate my sorrows away with greasy pizza and bread sticks.

The day after, I went to the circus with my friends. This was exciting to me because A.) I haven’t been to the circus since I was 6 and B.) I had my tea leaves read a couple weeks ago and they said that something good would happen at the circus. Anyway, the circus was bananas. Way too cool. And the clown didn’t even scare me! This is impressive, since I’ve been terrified of clowns ever since my dad showed me It when I was 4. When I went to the circus all those years ago, my dad made me talk to one of the clowns to show me they weren’t scary. It didn’t work. Anyway, my friends and I were especially impressed with the juggler, likely because he was cute. But he was pretty good at juggling too. I considered calling the CPA when they brought out the ten year old riding a motorcycle and he rode around in THE SPHERE OF DEATH. Call me over-protective, but I don’t think a little kid should be anywhere near something named The Sphere of Death. Whatever. After the circus, we briefly stalked the juggler before heading to Barnes and Noble because that’s pretty much the best thing to do in my city if you’re under 21. While there, I mentioned something about preferring to think of myself as being a moderate politically. This was a bad thing to say. My friends went on about how happy they are to consider themselves radically liberal, and that I, too, was radically liberal and should embrace the label. What I meant was that I don’t think my opinions on things should be considered radical. I didn’t express this well though, I guess. Then we were looking at books and they came across a book by Tucker Max and went on to discuss how horribly sexist he was. I pointed out, jokingly, that “At least he acknowledges he’s an asshole!” (He begins the book with stating that.) This, too, was the wrong thing to say. Apparently, that makes it worse, they said. The fact that he could realize how horrible the things he’s saying are, and not attempt to correct it–that makes him even more of a monster, they said. I excused myself to go look at the journals. They went to laugh at the ridiculous books in the young adult section. At this point, I was horribly depressed because I’m, well, me. And I get like that. Call me sensitive or weak or whatever else, but I don’t deal well with people’s criticism. They might be saying, You’re wrong about that. But in my head that turns into, You’re wrong about everything. And then, You’re an idiot/bad person. And then I think about all the other times I’ve done something wrong. Before you know it, I’m hating myself. So I drove home, hating myself. And then went to Walmart, hating myself. And then I bought my mom a plant, still hating myself. At midnight. This just reinforced the whole ‘losing my mind thing’.

Easter. Well. My brother showed porn to some of the other guests on his phone. So you can just fill in the blanks. I’ll just say that my virginity was questioned MANY times. Apparently, it’s a fun topic to discuss.

The rest of last week was boring, but then I went to San Francisco on Thursday. Which will be the topic of my next blog!

Ooh, cliffhanger.

We like ciroc. We love patron. We came to…vomit.

I’ve made a life-changing decision! I’ve decided to stop drinking!

You see, this decision resulted from the fact that every time I get drunk I don’t stop until I’m completely shit-faced. It’s kind of a problem. Especially since I drink, you know, like, often.

For example, the other night I went to karaoke with my friend and I was depressed for some reason. Probably because I had just seen one of my teachers from high school and had to do the whole “Um, I’m just doing community college right now, trying to figure things out, keep my options open…” routine, which obviously translates to “Hi! I have done nothing with the wonderful education I received from you! I’m a massive screw-up!” Anyway, I was like I’m gonna go get some alcohol now… And proceeded to drink two beers very very quickly (a technique commonly referred to as ‘chugging’). Then we went to the karaoke place and, being fairly inebriated, I decided to crack open the beer I had stashed in my bag. Right in the middle of the restaurant. My friend was like “What the fuck are you doing?! You can’t drink that in here!” I realized what I was doing and how incredibly stupid it was so I grabbed my friend and dragged him into the women’s bathroom so I could finish my beer.

People came in right then, so we ran into one of the stalls. I sat on the floor finishing my beer and giggling while my very irritated friend rolled his eyes. Then, much to my dismay, the beer changed direction. Luckily, I was already sitting next to the toilet. After that we left, without singing any songs. However, I left my keys in the booth so I had to have my friend drive back. We went back to my house, where my friend had to stop me from drinking more. It was kind of a crap night, all around. And it was crap because I wanted to drink.

But the real nail in the drinking coffin was last Thursday. My friend and I were doing shots, which really isn’t the best idea. Also, our glasses were likely bigger than normal shot glasses, so, uh, yeah. You can probably figure out where this night went. I threw up three time and still wanted to continue drinking. My friend had to hide the bottle of vodka, though I continued asking her where it was. The next day, I had the worst hangover ever. EVER. I threw up a few more time and kept shaking. I couldn’t eat anything, I could barely sleep my headache was so bad. Seriously, it was horrible. I was in bed the whole day. And that’s when I decided that drinking probably wasn’t worth this.

And then the other night, right after I had decided this, I went to a restaurant and these guys offered me and some of my friends margaritas. Naturally I said yes, just out of habit. And because I really wanted to drink. But my friends wouldn’t let me because I had driven there. And then my brother asked me if I wanted to drink later that night. And then the next day he gave me a glass of soda with rum in it. And I have this stupid bottle of Vodka under my bed right now. Ugh, this is going to be hard.

Here in my car, I feel safest of all.

Things I have realized you should not do while driving:

  • Text/make phone calls
  • Change your GPS location
  • Put on makeup
  • French braid your hair
  • Check your email on your laptop while looking for wi-fi
  • Study for a test
  • Read a book
  • Write
  • Eat a salad
  • Tie your shoe
  • Make mixed drinks
  • Change your pants

Yes, I have personally done all of these things, and many more that are equally as stupid. I mean, most of these are okay to do if you’re at a stop light or stuck in traffic. But when you are going 70 mph on the freeway (as I was with all of these), it would be best to simply focus on driving. And changing the music. Come on, guys. Be more responsible.