For my entire life, people have thought me a bit off. Of course, they are too polite to say this to my face and I am slightly paranoid, but I know it’s true. I am a bit off. I’m overly friendly and have an odd habit of pulling my shirt sleeves over my hands. When asked how I’m doing I say “fine ”…
Whenever I eat an apple around co-workers, I feel so bad because it’s so loud. In my head I always say, “Don’t worry guys, we’ll get through this.” And it pains me to know, that they’ll never know how caring I am, because my loud crunching offsets my carefulness.
Hey you! It’s me. This is weird, right? It just seems like everyone’s writing these letters and I wanted to jump on the bandwagon. That’s so like us, getting into a trend way too late. But, anyways, just wanted to tell Eliza of the future to never write a letter to herself again. I know you’re just bored right now and that’s why you’re doing it, but next time use this boredom time for something better, something more beneficial. Also stop buying Kombucha and maybe invest in some post-its, because that reminder is something that could’ve been put on a post-it, rather than a letter to your future self. So, how does one typically end these letters? I love you, I guess.
There are certain things people should just know. For example, the other day I was riding the subway and there was this woman who, rather than using the pole to hold, like it was intended for, she was holding on with her butt crack. Completely leaning up against the pole with her butt. And I don’t think that there is a polite way of saying, hey that’s not for your butt crack.
But, maybe she just doesn’t know, just like I didn’t know how to wear a belt correctly until middle school. I used to wear the buckle part all the way to the side, instead of the front. Luckily someone pointed out my error and I made a change. I am grateful to that person and I think of them whenever I wear a belt. And perhaps, that is exactly what I can be to this woman. Every time she is tempted to use her butt crack as support she will think of me.
For me a positive attitude is so important. Today I was out of clean running clothes, because I have been too lazy to do laundry, but I didn’t let that get me down. I just put on an old pair and was good to go. Thinking positively turns disgusting and lazy into resourceful, smart, and environmentally conscious.
When I was in middle school I was really into combining weird ingredients, microwaving them and eating it. My favorite concoction was chocolate chips, butter and brown sugar. I loved it. I had to stop though because, I found out I had high cholesterol.
But I recently started to think, what if I kept up this habit? And I would bring in all my ingredients to work and spend like an hour in the kitchen microwaving away. I could be the “Martha Stewart” of the office, but a fun Martha Stewart. A Martha Stewart who doesn’t care about measurements, organization, precision or health. A Martha Stewart who also doesn’t care about cleanup, because I’m really lazy when it comes to doing dishes. I think everyone would hate it.
I think people in commercials are too excited about the products they’re selling. It’s always, “the best” or “the greatest” or “amazing.” That doesn’t make me want to try any of this stuff. Where’s the mystery? Where’s the intrigue? That’s why I think it would be better if the advertisers just said the products were “okay” or “alright” or maybe “good?” but in kind of an unsure, questioning way. With those words my curiosity is piqued. It’s my job to test it out for them, for everyone. I guess it would make me feel special.
I can’t afford to buy magazines, which is sad, because sometimes I want to read them for the beauty tips and articles. Then I figured, why can’t I just make my own? Here’s my version of Cosmo.
-Ads-Lots of them and just when you think you’re done with them they’re more.
-Article about pleasing your man-it’s all about him-forget about you. Titled, “Hiding Your Face Makes Sex Easier For Him!”
-Article about finding your confidence-so you can please your man. Titled “Get Confident So He Can Get Off”
-Your fat-how to lose weight-gain confidence and please your man. Titled “Lose It And Groove It Or Else He Won’t Do It.”
-A chat with a celebrity wearing a bikini with a long sleeve top. She tells us how she feels confident and how she pleases a man. Titled “How “Insert Celebrity” Learned To Love Herself By Falling In Love And Having Sex And Stuff”
-A mini article about a new sex position to please your man. Titled “This One’s Gonna Hurt Ladies, But It’s Great For Him!”
-Another mini article about makeup tips-for the bedroom-to please your man. Titled “Dress Up To Get Down”
-Article about burning calories while pleasing your man. Titled “Getting Hot While Melting Fat”
The other day Sephora was offering free makeover sessions in Union Square. I decided to take them up on their offer. I’m really bad at doing makeup, so I figured now was my chance to learn something and get it done by a professional. The guy doing my lipstick was really nice, but I guess we had different opinions about my look. I was going for “angelic” and he was more of the “clown variety.” Needless to say, as I was walking around I got a couple of stares. I just thought it was because I looked good. I imagined people thinking, “Where is her halo?” but they were probably just thinking, “go back where you came from, clown.” That or, “Thanks for the warning, I won’t get my makeup done at Sephora.”
Sometimes I send myself emails to reassure and encourage myself. But they kind of have the opposite effect. I often forget I send them and then it’s actually first alarming, and then depressing to get a surprise email from yourself with the subject “I love you” and the body saying “everything is going to be okay.”
The other day at work I opened a yogurt container. It exploded, but I thought I had made it out okay, with most of the explosion getting on the floor. I felt lucky.
About an hour later I had to go to the bathroom. It wasn’t until I had looked in the mirror that I realized I had a large chunk of yogurt in my hair. This was disappointing on many levels. One because, it was gross, and two because, it looked like semen. I guess those were the only levels. But the semen one is good for like 12 levels.
I don’t like to-do lists. I don’t like seeing things I have to do in list form. I find it stressful and I think it looks aggressive. The list is basically yelling at you to do specific things with your free time, it’s like a nagging parent. I’d much rather do things by my own accord and be proud of myself for spontaneously doing it. For me, there is no thrill or rush gotten from crossing something off a list. I like the surprise of doing something right.
The other day I was at a bar with my roommate and I saw an old man walking in my direction. I stared at him for a second and thought, “Wow, old people are real buzz kills.” Then I felt bad about it, so I smiled at him. This turned out to be a bad choice, because once he shuffled over to me, he patted me on the head and said, “what are you looking at?” He seemed angry. Turns out my first thought was correct
There are still some cleaning supplies I haven’t bought for my room, but I don’t see the point. A table in my room tends to get dusty, but why would I get a duster or some cleaning spray when I can just blow the dust away using my own breath? This gets rid of it, for a little while at least, and it makes me feel powerful and useful. I have a purpose now and that purpose is to get rid of dust in my room. Sure, the dust comes back but that just gives me another opportunity to feel like a machine. I play inspirational music when I do it too, so that way everyone, meaning my cat and the musicians are cheering me on. I’m my very own duster and I’m proud.
I’m also broke and not buying a duster is saving me some money. So self-encouragement helps.
You go through life thinking you’re immune to the power of advertisements. But then you find yourself with platform sneakers, oxblood colored pants, and a closet full of peter pan collar tops that you never wear. Instead they just stare at you, mock you, and remind you of how weak you are. Shopping is fun.
I’ve never been more aware of the fact that I was single than this past weekend. After being stuck inside during the snowstorm on Friday, the next day I was ready to get out. So I opted to walk around by myself as I do most Saturdays. But the snow created a lot of large, deep puddles. At first I didn’t mind stepping in them, but then my feet started to get wet. Then, worst of all, I kept getting behind couples. The boy would help the girl through the puddle and I would be left alone to fend for myself. The puddles were too big and I kept stepping directly into them. I began to hate the couples around me, even more than usual, which is saying a lot. After that I started to reflect on my previous night stuck inside, alone. I had a dance party, alone. Then I hung out with my roommate’s cat and watched three episodes of “Louie.” I realized I have it pretty good. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. Sure these couples have each other to get through puddles, but I have freedom.
I went to a club the other night and it cost $30 to get in. I would never in a million years spend that kind of money on a club, but my friend wanted to go so I went to be supportive. Honestly, I think it was the grossest place I have ever been to in my life. Mainly because it smelled like people had just been farting for hours. It’s like because it was loud and dark they just felt free to express themselves in farts. The most annoying part is people act like they’re so cool and chic, paying lots of money to go dance, but meanwhile they’re just farting up a storm. And that is why I will never go to a club again.
Sometimes when I’m really cold and walking to work, I’ll see a dog walking with its’ owner and I’ll think, “Wow, I’d love to be that dog.” But, today I realized that’s actually a really sad way to think.
One of my least favorite things is when you’re walking behind someone and then you decide you are faster than they are and want to pass them. So you start to speed up, but then they speed up too and you’re walking together, side by side. I always feel so weird. What do I do? Speed up or slow down? It’s like a secret race, and being extremely competitive I always jog ahead. But I think the way to remedy the situation is to reach out your hand and walk together. Not only will this stop my competitive edge, but it will also ease my loneliness.
In 2nd grade I was really good at drawing horses. So good, in fact, friends would ask me to draw for them and I was more than happy to oblige. It was a really great time in my life. But my drawing ability lasted only that year. Something snapped and I don’t know what it was, but I just couldn’t do it anymore. I guess my talents just shifted as I got interested in other things. My classmates and I would have a contest for who could squeeze in their nose, basically plug it without using your hands, for the longest amount of time. I was the second best at this. I also got really into curling all of my fingers together very quickly. I was the fastest in my class and people were pretty impressed. But these things aren’t useful today. Today it would be really cool if I were still good at drawing horses. Maybe I could even make a job of it. I guess I could try to make a job of the other things, but I’m not really sure what those jobs would entail.
This peanut butter has been powdered and defatted. It’s called “Great Stuff.” But I think it should be called “Sad Stuff,” because that’s what peanut butter without fat tastes like. From now on I’m going to stick to Peanut Butter & Co. “Smooth Operator.” A peanut butter I not only love and respect, but one whose name accurately describes it.
I moved to New York City a couple of weeks ago and, as a writer, I like to pretend I’m Carrie Bradshaw. A Carrie Bradshaw with little sexual experience. A Carrie Bradshaw who doesn’t go out, but instead, gets most of her social interactions by frequenting multiple grocery stores. A Carrie Bradshaw who still hasn’t gotten around to buying curtains, so she is forced to get dressed by crouching down away from the windows so people can’t see her. A Carrie Bradshaw whose proudest moments are mastering push-pull doors and remembering to swing both arms while walking. Here’s to my crazy New York life.
People say live everyday like it’s your last. But I think that’s a depressing way to look at life. If I lived everyday like it was my last I would be scared 100% of the time. I would want to be with people 24/7, to need constant attention and care. Which I guess is pretty much how I live my life now. So I think you should live your life like you have at least a month left. That way you can relax for a couple of weeks, just taking it easy, doing things for you. Getting essential errands done, without feeling any real time constraint.
A couple of days ago I was walking and eating a sandwich. I started kind of choking but I didn’t have any water. So I just kept eating the sandwich, trying to wash the food lodged in my throat down with more food. Obviously that didn’t work. But still I kept doing it and kept on walking, pretty much on the verge of death. Then one of those guys selling tickets to a comedy show started talking to me. I obviously couldn’t talk, just shook my head, my mouth full of sandwich and my eyes filled with fear. The guy looked worried for me, but I kept moving and kept eating. Eventually the sandwich was washed down with more sandwich and I was happy again. But this experience got me thinking, I’d rather choke and die on a sandwich than talk to a stranger. It was really a shame because it was painful and also I didn’t get to enjoy my sandwich at all. Needless to say, I won’t be walking with sandwiches anymore.
The other day I went to the dentist to get my teeth cleaned. The dentist causes a lot of problems for me, the first being, what do I do with my eyes? Should I keep them shut as I get my teeth cleaned? Should I stare into my dentists’ eyes or into the light? No matter what I choose for my eyes, the fact that I’m lying down with someone’s hand in my mouth just seems too intimate for me. The conversation also proves difficult. This time was no different. While my dentist was flossing my teeth she was telling me about her recent vacation to Colorado. I decided I could add to the conversation by saying one of my conversation go-to words, “really” not realizing how much it would require me to move my tongue. As I said it I licked her hand. She seemed surprised as she quickly took her hand out of my mouth. After that she stopped flossing, but continued the conversation and it took everything in my power not to laugh, as I looked her in the eyes, pretending I was listening, but really only thinking about how I had licked her. Luckily I made it through the rest of the appointment sans laughter and licking. I also have no cavities and she said I’ve done a good job flossing.
When I feel upset or discouraged I think back to the Winter of 2nd grade when I continuously licked my lips. They got so incredibly chapped that I pretty much developed a second outer lip, a giant red, dry skin patch, shaped like my mouth, enveloping my real mouth. I don’t do that anymore, so I have one lip, so things aren’t so bad.
Well, I did it. I finished this pack of seaweed. After reading that seaweed is good for hair growth, I ran out and bought some. People said it was disgusting. They couldn’t be around me when I ate it, but I kept going despite their dirty looks and hateful comments. After finishing this pack I have to say I have noticed zero difference in my hair, but I’m not disappointed. I learned something about myself. I’m a fighter, a former seaweed eater, and someone who desperately needs to stop getting hair growth advice online.
Today I was in a bad mood, but then I started to sing that song “Devil Town” (here’s a link if you haven’t heard it http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B8Z0PYfcnBk ) This song alone usually makes me feel better, since It reminds me of “Friday Night Lights.” But today I discovered something amazing. I simply changed the words from “Devil Town” to “Deviled Egg” and I was transformed. Then I realized I could change the whole song using a deviled egg theme. It became:
I was living in a deviled egg
I didn’t know it was a deviled egg
Oh lord it really brings me down about the deviled egg.
All my friends were mayonnaise
I didn’t know they were mayonnaise
It turns out I was the paprika in the deviled egg.
I suppose this would mean nothing to you if you don’t know the song. But this has dramatically changed my life.
For one of my classes sophomore year of college I created Facebook profiles for authors and characters discussed throughout the course. I forgot about this project until the other day when I got this email.
I don’t know why but that Faith Hill song, “The Way You Love Me” has always bothered me. It’s been in my head for the past couple of days and I’m still so annoyed by it. I just think her wish is so stupid. So, in order to help me deal with my disdain for this song, I’ve decided to come up with a response from the male whom Faith Hill is singing to. If you don’t know it I’ve put copied the chorus below.
If I could grant
You one wish
I’d wish you could see the way you kiss
Ooh, I love watching you
When you’re driving me crazy
Hey, you know I love you, but why would you wish that for me? I mean you could’ve wished anything, is that really what you think I’d want. I guess it’s sweet…no it’s not, not at all. I’ve told you about my money problems. Could you at least wish for money? It doesn’t even have to be that large of an amount, just enough to pay off my mortgage. What about superpowers? I’d like to be able to fly. I know I’ve told you that at least once. What about a big penis? I know we’d both like that. I guess there are just a number of things I would’ve rather you wished for.
And the fact that you wished that makes me worried about our relationship. It’s just such a stupid wish. I mean I have eyes, like I can see how I kiss and I really don’t care about seeing it from some new perspective. How exactly would it work anyways? Like, how did you envision this? Would it be some out of body experience, would I be fully present in two different bodies, one of me kissing you the other watching? It just seems like you didn’t think this through.