Sisters From Another Mister

Back At It Again with the Flights

by karinaaax03

Dear James,

I am currently looking at you, in your very horizontal, yet still somehow seated, state. Since I’ve spent the majority of the past 24 hours with you, I naturally don’t have a whole lot to update you on, but I’ll try my very best.

After my super in-depth breakdown of a week last week, my dad was pretty pumped for me to leave. So yesterday morning we headed to LGA and I got on a plane and did my usual ritual of flying to North Carolina. In an unfortunate twist of events, there was a baby seated in front of me and she proceeded to scream in a very shrill manner for approximately 45% of the flight. That may not seem like much, but when a child looks directly at you and shrieks on a small plane, it sure seems like a lot.

Now that I’m back at the Lon yet again (I have a severe lack of self control, clearly) it feels pretty natural to be back. Thankfully, I don’t have to deal with finals or writing essays or any of that other pointless stuff, but other than that things seem to be pretty much the same as usual. I guess when it comes down to it, some things really just don’t ever change.

As I said in our group chat, last night was pretty fun — when I say pretty fun, I mean more fun than we’ve had in a while and probably more fun than we used to have, to be honest. Coming from someone who’s past 5 months has been filled with cubicle-sitting and solo wine-drinking, that might not mean a lot, but we were both there and we know it was lit.

Me getting off the plane

I’m very, very excited to spend the next week and a half here with my humans. I’m even more excited because this is definitely the longest vacation I’ll get in a while, and I’m definitely going to do everything in my power to enjoy it to the fullest. I start my new job in NYC on the Monday after graduation, so I won’t have a whole lot of rebound time once my plane touches down to get my shit together and get my ass to work. Luckily, I’m a lady of little rebound time (lolololololol).

TTFN (ta ta for now),

The Basic One

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I am Iron Man

by Jamie Rice

Dear Karine,

It is no secret that I have always sought to understand everything about my life through the lens of films and television. This identification is a good thing a lot of the time, helping me process my emotions and understand the world around me in a pragmatic objective way. But even I, sometimes, catch myself going too far. I have to step back and go, “Jamie, you are not Greg from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend nor are you Gretchen from You’re the Worst. You’re a breathing complex person.”

However, today is not one of those days. Today is a day where I dive head first into the comparison because I realized something at last Friday’s screening of Captain America: Civil War. I have always connected with Tony Stark a.k.a. Iron Man.

Now, let me begin by saying… on paper this makes absolutely no fucking sense. None.

Well, except for this moment. Always related to this moment.

But I mean this guy is the self-described:

Like this ain’t my typical thing. Karina, this man is the patriarchy, but here is the other thing, Tony was an already interesting character due to his motivation and decision to basically become a superhero, but in the last four movies I have watched with him, this kid has grown. For example, read this interaction:

STEVE
Big man in a suit of armor. Take that
off, what are you?

TONY
Genius, billionaire, playboy,
philanthropist.

STEVE
I know guys with none of that worth ten
of you. Yeah, I’ve seen the footage.

(MORE)

STEVE (CONT’D)
The only thing you really fight for is
yourself. You’re not the guy to make
the sacrifice play, to lay down on a
wire and let the other guy crawl over
you.

TONY
I think I would just cut the wire.

STEVE

(SMILING)
Always a way out… You know, you may
not be a threat, but you better stop
pretending to be a hero.

It has always gotten right to my heart, and I think I have to admit to myself that it must be because I have some sort of personal identification with Tony. There has to be something more there. At first glance, it makes no sense. I am a team player. Always have been. Steve should be my shit. But here is the other thing. With the exception of my gender, I am not very different from Tony. I value my smarts. I am well-off and generous with the privilege I have been born into, and at the end of the day, I am painfully aware of the fact that every aspect of my life has reinforced a bad system. I shop at Forever 21. I eat meat. I wear makeup. I have no desire to visit Africa. I’m an integral cog in a shitty system.

However, I try to use every ounce of the good stuff I listed above to better society. I involve myself in the feminist club. I read everything that I can, and if I am in a conversation with someone and they say something that is bad, I will motherfucking tell them. I try to be a personal role model and hero to those around me. I am an Augustus Waters. I want to save the world, but here’s the bigger catch and connection that I have to Tony: I am a “hero” because I am terrified.

The beginning of Avengers: Age of Ultron, I’m giving you the most insane superhero backstory right now and I’m kind of sorry, Tony sees a vision of his deepest fear. You wanna know what it is? That every one of his friends is dead, and he wasn’t able to save them. He failed, and when he is asked about it later he goes, “You know what the worst part was… that I wasn’t dead.” That’s the kind of shit that gets right to my fucking heart. The idea that not only will people die but that they will die because I didn’t do enough. I failed to save them. They died because of me.

Side note: This doesn’t even get into the most recent film I watched him in where someone asked if he was fine, and he replied with such melancholy, “Oh, I’m always fine.” *cries*

It’s over dramatized and ridiculous, but this is the heart of my fear. There is so much suffering in this world, and I just want to make the world an awesome place for the good people in it. I want it so bad that it hurts, and sometimes it feels like, if I don’t try, I might as well just say that I want to help this shitty system.

I know I didn’t really update you on my day, but I will definitely make sure to do that when I pick you up at the airport tomorrow afternoon!

Love you to the moon and back (it’s really true),

James

xoxoxo

p.s. Sorry for the fact that you can’t understand most of this cause it’s so superhero-y

p.p.s.

Me about this post…

p.p.p.s

You when I said anything in this post that you actually got

How to Laugh-Cry: A Memoir

by karinaaax03

Dear James

I’m gonna go ahead and just confess, but now that I’ve typed the word confess I realize I have more than one thing to confess so I’m going to go ahead and make a list cause I’m basic like that.

1. I’ve been drinking champagne.
I don’t usually drink champagne, so this is basically one of the most exiting things that has happened to me in a while. Honestly, there hasn’t exactly been a whole lot of exciting changes in my life (besides my constant anxiety and nearing psychotic break) so this is a pretty big development.

3d4d5

A reimagining of me as a disgruntled blond drinking champagne instead of the disgruntled brunette that I am. 

2. I’m a big baby.
You knew this already, but I figure I’d just confess again to make sure you knew that I knew. I’m a giant baby because as usual I’d rather keep things to myself than rock the boat. Throwback to the blog I wrote a month or two ago saying that I’d rock the boat. My life is a tragic comedy.

laughing-crying-the-office-12

So, I don’t have much else to confess, except that my life these days is one giant communication breakdown. I know it’s the busy season in life (I guess, maybe I’m just telling myself that to make myself feel better) but like – holy fuck.

I honestly feel as though everyone in my life has been affected by some magical spell that halts all communication skills (or maybe I’m just watching too much Sabrina the Teenage Witch). I will give you an example.

Today, as you know, is Mothers Day. So I (we?) have been trying to make a nice plan for my over sensitive mother, but of course my sisters slept in until 11, so when I showed up at 10:30 despite the lack of communication (having wrapped the gift, bought a card, and bought a balloon) my sisters were still asleep and the Ice Queen was clearly disgruntled. I think my balloon cheered her up.

Basically, my mother ended up telling one of my sisters to leave because she was complaining that she had to study for her finals even though she spent the previous night with her boyfriend. The drama.

make-it-stop
Aside from today’s lack of communication, I just feel like this is a general theme in my life the past week or so. As much as I’d like to praise myself for being the beacon of communication in this shithole of a life, I’ve kept quite a bit inside. In my defense, I did have a total breakdown the other day and was literally screaming at the dinner table. I think my dads girlfriend is beginning to fear me…bad news for the woman who makes your dinner daily.

I literally feel like banging my head against the wall because at this point, that seems like the only option left to attempt to clear up this epic breakdown in my excessively thick skull. I wonder, if everyone around you seems to have the same problem, is it really just you with the problem?

All I really have to say is, fuck my life.

Anyways, wish me luck in this insane life I am leading, I’m keeping my head up (or at least trying to)

xoxo,

The Basic One

Trying to Rewrite History (Eliza’s Part II)

by Jamie Rice

Dear Karine,

I am doing something that few rarely attempt. I am going to try and rewrite history. I know that I am the one that is always telling you that. What did Gatsby teach us, Karine? He taught us that repeating the past is a great way to end up dead in a pool (or something like that).

However, before we get into what is possibly going to happen tonight, let’s begin with the week. It was an alcohol-fueled romp through my final days. I attended more the LGBTQIA and Women’s/Gender Studies Banquet (the latter I attended with four drinks in me). I also (successfully might I add) did an exit interview and a presentation. (Weirdly enough, looking back it seems like the amount that I have drunk in any particular week is directly correlative to how much work I have. Fascinating…)

THE MOST IMPORTANT INFORMATION IS THAT…

(drum rolllllll)

I SAW THE NEW CAPTAIN AMERICA MOVIE, AND IT WAS AMAZING. (Sorry for shouting) Seriously, it was the best moment of my life. It hurt me. It made me laugh, and it convinced me that another spider-man movie is okay. That’s no easy feat.

#baller

But coming back around to the repeating the past thing, I am going to Eliza’s again for another party with the Sundance people. What happened last time? Well, in case you have forgotten, that was the party where I lost my credit card, ID, and phoenix card. And I woke up drunk in my clothes with YG wearing jeans. It was a shit show. A shit show that I will hopefully not repeat tonight. However, I would like for you to pray for me. In my time on this Earth, I have learned that it’s never a bad thing to have God on your side. Never. HEAR THAT GOD?

I don’t think she listens to me.

LISTEN TO ME DEAR!

Love,

James

xoxoxoxo

The Push and the Pull…Well, Mostly Just the Push

by karinaaax03

Dearest James,

All the thoughts. In my head.

I’ve been unusually in my own mind lately, which means a lot coming from someone who’s usually at least 50% floating around in her own little world of endless thoughts.

I’m not quite sure what the deal is, but I think I’ve just been a bit overwhelmed with life lately. Not necessarily in a bad way, just in a way.

I’ve basically accepted the fact that I have a second job as the Communications Liaison for my family. This has low-key always been my role in my family, but it’s been extra apparent lately. I blame my zodiac sign for my extremely maternal instincts and, in turn, my constant need/position of taking care of people.

In the past week, I’ve had to book everyone’s flights, help set up a meeting time so my sister can get her new phone, coordinate my sisters’ pick-up times from college, spearhead Mother’s Day plans, make sure my parents are individually okay with graduation plans, and basically everything else. I’ve even been asked to fill out my sisters’ FAFSA for them on more than one occasion. Only about 25% of these things are actually activities I’m participating in, so why, I wonder, are they all my problem.#OverIt

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As I said to my sister last night, it’s honestly just sad that I am the highest level of having their shit together in my family, since I really never feel like I have my shit together at all. But I suppose if the shoe fits…

giphy

Too bad my metaphorical shoe isn’t as dainty as Cinderella’s literal one.

On top of all the logistical issues, I’ve also been trying to get my father to realize the simplest of concepts for MONTHS now. I’ve told him approximately 100x that he needs to initiate conversation with my sister because she won’t and they need to fix their mutual communication.

I have three theories for why he doesn’t understand this seemingly simple concept:

  1. The juvenile notion that texting someone first is somehow a weakness has yet to be conquered.
  2. Somehow being an adult qualifies you to be technically wrong but simultaneously right. (If this is true, I can’t wait until it kicks in for me!)
  3. Men are, in fact, all just incredibly fucking stubborn.

For me, no matter which way you twist it, it’s fucking stupid.

head-banging

Still no doubt in my mind that I am Nick.

And that got me thinking a lot about communication, and if we have to just accept people the way they are. Obviously, in situations pertaining to family and small disagreements, we might as well just accept people and conform to meet their needs without totally obliterating our everyday lives. But I’m trying to take it a step further than that.

When, I ask myself as I sit in my tiny cube writing this, is accepting someone’s menial flaws and annoyances the wrong thing to do? Where is that balance between getting what you want and isolating everyone? I get I’m being a bit dramatic here, but think about it — if you’re always pushing your own agenda to ensure your complete and total happiness, it’s pretty likely you’ll end up alone at the end of the day. There’s got to be some compromise in life, some push and pull.

And so I continue to wonder, as the generally submissive person that I am, if I’ve just been letting myself get pushed around too much. If maybe I’ve been giving in too much lately and sacrificing what I want/need for the (sometimes greater, sometimes not-so-much greater) good. I’ve always, always struggled to really stand up for myself (hello lack of opinions and horrible decision making skills, I see you) so sometimes I like to check myself before I wreck myself, to put it as literally as my metaphor-inclined self can.

I can convince myself of almost anything, and I think I’ve convinced myself that I’m fine not taking my “pull” in a lot of matters, but I don’t want to do that anymore. It’s stupid and annoying and gets me all in a way so you know what, fuck that.

sheldon-fuck-it-gif

My tossing my submission in the air.

On the plus side, I will be seeing you in just 6 short days and we will be graduating college.

Time. Fucking. Flies.

All my love,

The Basic One

giphy1

If it wasn’t clear enough before, I’m Nick.

 

EVERYBODY HURTS

by Jamie Rice

Karina,

I have to be honest with you. This day has not gone as planned (As you can probably guess based on my super late and possibly tardy blog post response). All I have to say is that these are the items of my day in no particular order:

  1. I watched YG scream with terror after being startled by a lizard carrying a flower (true story that is worth an in person retelling)
  2. I didn’t even arrive home until 10:30 with Cookout that Rachel and I got and mixed up, so I had to walk all the way over to her house and exchange with her like a peasant.
  3. I stood at the bar to the Oak House while I watched four bartenders that I all know by name defiantly not serve me for a record 15 minutes.
  4. I went to an Organization Renewal meeting where I was only there for 15 minutes and was taught how to use a bull shit student org version of Facebook.
  5. I have an exit interview tomorrow in which I have to word vomit everything I have ever learned to two random professors in 45 minutes (and If I fail it, the punishment is that I have to take it again! They really know how to rub it in.)
3o7ablpofq6adq1h9m

I weirdly relate to this often…

So yeah. I guess I’m killing it. Throw me in jail for murder! (Jk don’t I didn’t actually kill anything besides time. BOOM.)

Otherwise, the weekend was good except for my little weird snafu with the kids at the pregame in which I made a weird slightly sober ass of myself (but in a sexy and friendly way). I also got us that office space, which you so graciously helped with, so I really am on a roller coaster. And it really is going up. Mostly.

All the love in this universe (and I mean that),

James

xoxoxoxo

P.S. Bet you thought I would miss it!

“I’m Surrounded By Idiots”

by karinaaax03

Dear James,

I’m just going to get right into my total lack of sanity and/or luck.

On Wednesday, as I was walking to Grand Central after work as I do daily, I saw a homeless man whose sign read “Sorry to be a burden” along with a plea for help. I have to say, I have never related so much to a homeless man in my life. I can’t say that this is the first time I have ever related to a homeless person, and it certainly won’t be the last, but this really got me.

This interaction set off a shit storm of emotions. I realized that most of my insecurities/anxieties in life stem from the fact that I desperately don’t want to be a burden, but very frequently feel like one. Is this the fault of the people around me? Probably not. How will I stop seeing myself as a burden to the people I love? I do not know. Am I incredibly needy? Guess it depends who you ask.

On top of this realization, I had the most interesting (aka, torturous) time while trying to get my birth control pills this weekend.

Again, I shall explain.

I had been trying to get my brain (which is normally induced in either a wine or boredom coma) to remember to call the pharmacy so I could pick up my pills before Saturday when I had to start a new pack.

Did I remember? Of course not.

So on Saturday, I began by calling my local CVS. A man who I could hardly understand answered and told me I had no refills.

“That’s odd,” I say patiently, “I was supposed to get three last time and only got one so you should have the other two,” I try to explain.

They did not have them. Neither did my other pharmacy. I called CVS again. The lady was a total bitch, attempting to explain the law to me. After I asked her if she could call pharmacy B, she sassed me and said I would have to call and explain it to them (again). That makes sense, right, because I’m a pharmacist and all.

I took pharmacy B’s advice and called the doctor. Problem is, it’s a fucking Saturday. Please find me a gynecologist who is open on Saturday. I fucking dare you.

My asshole self connects with someone designated to work for the office, and she checks to see if the blessed doctors can send a new prescription over being that the incompetence of two pharmacies have managed to lose it. She was the only competent person in this whole story.

About 20 minutes later, I get a call from a man who doesn’t introduce himself. He tells me he can’t send over the prescription because the office is closed and sometimes people call who don’t actually go to that office. I wonder, if the office is closed then who the hell are you? I ask him again, if he could please just send it over. I think, clearly my agitation indicated that my hormones are fucked up, so please send the damn script. No can do, he insists.

As if I wasn’t agitated enough, this annoying man begins to lecture me about my sexual health. I will outline this infuriating conversation below:

Man: You start your pills on a Saturday? That’s weird.

Me in my head: Oh sorry I didn’t conveniently keep my period’s end-date on Sunday for three goddamn years, my bad.

Me: Yes.

Man: I can’t send it over. You can just take two pills on Monday and two on Tuesday and you should be protected. You know, if you want to be extra protected you can just use condoms. But in the future you should really be on top of this so you can call while the office is open.

Me in my head: HOLY SHIT GO FUCK YOURSELF! How are you employed by a gynecologist and you think the the only reason women take birth control is sex related??!?! How is my reproductive health any of your concern right now??? You are not my doctor! You are not my mother! You are not my sexual partner! Please fuck off!

Me: Well, the pharmacy filled the script wrong which is why I am in this situation.

Lucky for this man, I had already spent my daily energy yelling at pharmacists and had no yelling left inside my tiny soul.

To top it all off, I visited pharmacy B (conveniently located in a supermarket) and noticed that the pharmacist I had been frustratedly venting about my birth control struggles with all day was, in fact, my middle school crush.

A few short hours later, I got a call from the asshole telephone man saying he was sending the script over. Glad you realized how much of an ass you were, I thought.

Eternal mood: Judge Judy

That, my friend, is how I spent my Saturday.

It’s been looking up since then, to be honest, but clearly my patience is worn thin.

Wish me the best of luck, I clearly need it.

xoxo,

The Basic One.

Notes on Dating Insecure Boys

by Jamie Rice

Dear Karine,

Well, it’s Friday, and I am determined to get this blog not only in on time but also in way before time. SOOOOOO, get pumped for some quality blogging here.

me up in the gym just working on my fitness #fergiecrossover

me up in the gym just working on my fitness #fergiecrossover

As you can tell from my title, I have decided to go in on a little bit of my romantic history and some of the trends that I have noted in the men I have dated. It is no secret to anyone who has met me that I am a more dominant than submissive personality (not necessarily sexually but we can talk about that more on another day in another blog post). This means that there are two types of people I can date personality wise (in the most basic senses): submissive people or holy-shit-you-are-a-confident-douchebag dominants.

My most recent romantic catastrophe (Side note: Get it! Our favorite show! Have you finished this season btw?) was definitely in the submissive category. He was so in it that this interaction actually happened:

YG: *scoots close to me*

YG: *continues scooting close to me*

YG: *puts hand on knee*

YG: *puts face in my face*

Me: “What you doing, YG?”

YG: “Nothing”

Me: “Do you want to kiss me?”

YG: *clearly wants to kiss me* “No.”

And that was odd for me. Of course, I turned it into some kind of game in which I would just keep boring him to death with pointless information until he would finally take the initiative and kiss me (Rachel’s favorite story about this was that I told him all of the finer parts of the show Fixer Upper before he famously cut me off with a kiss during the sentence, “The thing about Chip is….”) However, as I said before, this is not a blog post about what it means to be dominant or submissive in a relationship. No, this is a blog post about insecurity.

I realized last night that I have always been with the kind of men who crave and need constant validation. And the thing is, I like them, so, of course, I will validate them. I will tell them that they’re pretty and hot because if I want to fuck them, then I obviously think that they possess those traits. However, while this can be fun for the first few weeks or so, I have noticed that eventually the insecurity always creeps back in. The doubts they had have not been fixed by me telling them they’re hot af (shocking, right?). And after years of romantic failures, I think I have some idea as to why this trait is so plentiful in the men I have been involved with.

Gets me every time. #ThanksStarWars

Men have no model of how to deal with insecurity. Think about it. Remember those annoying ass fucking Dove commercials about how women all secretly think that they’re ugly and will do anything to feel like they’re better (EVEN THO OF COURSE THEY NEED NOTHING BECAUSE THEY WERE BEAUTIFUL TO BEGIN WITH BLEGH). Well, that is a very common narrative for the female population, and even if it might make me crazy sometimes, it has also told me that it is natural to have doubts about your physical appearance. Everyone (every woman at least) does. However, men do not have this same model. It is not an accepted part of our society that men will doubt their beauty. It is rather the opposite. People look at the fact that men of all shapes and sizes have been leads in movies and go, “Duh, men are confident as fuck,” and they just leave it at.

That’s fucked up. There is no possibility for insecurity there. No, none at all. Instead, men are just perfect all the time cause they’re valid. Well, I will tell you this society. Every man I have ever been with has proven your male self-esteem belief to be a huge fucking myth. It is a myth to such a degree that last night this man I was fucking with for a hot sec via the internet (long story for another post) told me that he seriously doubts that he is beautiful. And I said, “Hey, we all have insecurities,” and he responded, “Oh, no. I’m not insecure.” Dude, he literally couldn’t even admit that he had an insecurity right after admitting his own insecurity to me. That’s ridicu-fucking-lus.

I don’t necessarily have any action steps to fix this problem (4 years of feminist clubbing and I feel like I barely even convinced people that feminists are cool like Taylor Swift… ugh le sigh), but I think it is something I will be aware of from now on. Because, as we all know, deep down, men are just big emotionally insecure noobs.

#TheMoreYouKnow

Love love love,

James

xoxo

P.S. I finally wrote a long post again! Yay!

kitty kitty

I’m on a Roller Coaster that Only Goes Up

by karinaaax03

Dear James,

What a roller coaster I’ve experienced since the last time I updated you. Even though we talked yesterday, I feel like it’s been ages since we spoke. Clearly I’m still not over the concept of time. Maybe I’m a slow learned after all..

zcfqbkqcsoegmtsftrgo_confused20joey20friends

To officially update you (via this blog) about my life, I signed a new job offer. I know, hold the applause on me actually making a real life decision though because life technically made this one for me. Long story short, a pro-con chat becomes pretty easy when one half doesn’t hire you — huge con. So I’ll be staying in the Big Apple and attempting to establish a life here. Wish me luck.

In July, I’m going to move in with one of my high school friends, Britt, and officially embark on a journey most 20-somethings are actively working to obtain.

To be honest, I was definitely leaning toward city life in my decision-making, but I was trying to make my other option valid in the eyes of logistics and my family/friends. I guess I was right when I said once I left NC I wouldn’t be moving back anytime soon. Maybe I am a psychic after all.

When I first got my eloquent rejection email (technology man, instant rejection), I was pretty bummed.Not particularly because of the lost job opportunity, but because the decision I had been working so hard to make was suddenly taken away from me and made completely by default. Call me crazy, but I wanted to dance around in the pride of having made my own decision. I wasn’t going to tell people about this rejection — cause pride — but I guess not it’s on the Internet so all bets are off. I still probably won’t tell anyone outside of the people I’ve already told, which I suppose now includes you and anyone with access to the internet.

Oh well.

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Do you see a trend?

Since my “decision” I’ve had basically every feeling I can think of, but have begun to settle into excitement thanks to the supportive humans in my life, sheer logic, and apartment hunting on Zillow. I’m gonna live in NYC!

On that note, I feel SO old. Signing offers, doing paperwork, looking over my budget and such.When I think too much about it, a weirdly excited panic sets in. Excited because I’m moving in the direction of my #lifegoals, but panic because I’m only 21 and SO young to be doing all of this big kid stuff.

I’m so lucky — so I’ve been trying to focus a lot on being grateful. When I was down in North Carolina, you know who (Lord grant me the strength so come up with an intelligent nickname) and I were talking about how, in the moment, it can be tough to look around and realize how good it’s all going, but that it’s so important to do that and contributes volumes to overall happiness. Even though this conversation wasn’t about me, it hit me really hard. I always believed that gratitude was the secret to happiness, but at this point in my life that reminder from someone who doesn’t live in my head was much needed.

joeyhug4

All in all, I’ve been pretty positive the past few days, and as Augustus would say, I’m on a roller coast that only goes up, my friend.

All the best,

The Basic One

YOU’LL NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE, COPPER!

by Jamie Rice

Dearest Karine,

Bet you thought you caught me didn’t you? Well, no fucking dice. None at all. THERE ARE NO DICE! (Sorry for shouting! I was excited!)

loud noises

Me in public spaces… or maybe just me in general

Anyway, life is still happening down here for the peasants in NC without jobs (wink wink wink wink). I’m still just trying to enjoy all of these school and unadult moments, but I have recently been rather wearied by my relationship (or friendship) with the young grasshopper. For example, today in class we discussed Game of ThronesJohn OliverSilicon Valley, and Beyonce’s amazing Lemonade. So I was already like so in it, and this was all tempered by the fact that before class I was joking with my teacher that I was gonna skip and she was like, “But without you what would the young grasshopper do?” and I had to be like, “Oh, trust me he would be fine.” The whole scenario was just hitting me so motherfucking close to home.

AND THEN we were just like talking and all of sudden we weren’t talking anymore. We were just like staring in to each other’s eyes like this:

And then he like looked down at my lips for a second and in my mind it ended like this:

But, instead, I just looked away and tried to ignore the fact that it all of a sudden felt like a 1,000 degrees in that classroom. And who knows if it was just me or if he was there with me in that moment. I got no clue. No fucking clue. (How fun for me? Always enjoy feeling crazy.)

However, I have resolved to accept the fact that maybe I am just not over it yet, and that is okay. The time will come when I no longer care, and I will love it when it happens. I will enjoy that day. And that day with come, but until then I got to stop beating myself up for enjoying and wanting a good thing back. I mean I shouldn’t Gatsby the whole scenario, but I gotta realize that it is natural to want back the hand holding and Sing Street movie make outs in the snow (I pushed two stories together there, but you get the message).

No Lana Del Ray. I will not. Sorry. This is America, and the patriarchy is strong in this nation.

Otherwise, nothing too big has happened in my life besides the fact that I got really drunk all of Sunday in an attempt to handle the whole scenario. It worked pretty well until I forced Rachel to listen to sappy songs from The Last Five Years and almost cried in the car (but don’t worry, your girl covered for it beautifully).

Same Greg. Sameeeeeeee

I also got to hang out with Rachel Lewis and Holly because they moved all the way back across the country to North Carolina because they were done dealing with fuckboys and LA. I literally looked at Rachel and went, “Welp, I guess I’m gonna go repeat your mistakes and hopefully prove you wrong,” and she was like, “Hey, please do!” But it was beyond fun to see her again. I also told Rachel and Holly about the young grasshopper biting my vagina and Holly’s look of shock was worth the 45-minute drive. Without a doubt.

Lol I just want you to know that I was listening to this amazing ass song:

And it reminded me of when young grasshopper (hereafter known as YG), Ryan, Ben and I all got together and YG and I sang “Over” together. And then I got all Gatsby sad again. Yeah, clearly it’s still gonna take some more time to get over this, but the first step is acceptance, and between my admission last week that I liked him and my admission this week that I’m really not over it, I think I’m really on the right track. Let’s pray to mother universe that I’m right.

All the love that the Universe can even conceive,

James

P.S. I am so fucking proud of you with your whole job scenario that I can’t even think of words. I give you this gift: