Spy Adult

First grade was the year of butterfly shirts, a perpetually messy desk, and pipe dreams of being a Spy Kid. When I watched Spy Kids, as an impressionable six-year-old, I thought I had found my calling. I was wooed by the fast-paced lifestyle; I was enthralled by the karate, the gadgets, and the fact that Carmen's hair was constantly blowing in a mysterious and cinematically pleasing breeze. I spent countless hours playing spy with my friends, making up missions to complete and finding hidden clues in the ivy that grew on the chain-link fence. At home, I would bare my teeth in the mirror and practice punching and kicking towards my reflection. As the years passed and the rosy glow of elementary school dimmed, I realized that I should look elsewhere for a career. College, though, is all about exploring your options. So, while I explore the option of being an English major and making absolutely no money in the future, I feel like I might as well entertain the option of being a super spy once again. After all, I'm highly qualified.

  

Diplomacy is an essential spy skill. You have to pretend to like people even if you think they are really annoying. I already have a lot of practice with this skill in real life. I've dealt with so many obnoxious people that by now, I'm an expert.

Ingenuity comes in handy when you need to make up an excuse on the spot for why you were reading someone else's files with a flashlight at 2:03 am. I am a highly skilled excuse-maker in my current position as a student, because I regularly come up with elaborate stories to tell myself and others about why I'm looking at Tumblr instead of doing my homework.

My diverse interests will allow me to act like an elite member of society with some and like a not-so-elite member of society with others. I have an intimate knowledge of the High Renaissance in Italy (lookin' at you, Leonardo), as well as a very committed relationship with America's Next Top Model. 

As a Master of Disguise, I am capable of blending in with my surroundings. If you enjoyed the picture of a worm above, then you will probably be flabbergasted and impressed to learn that that worm is me. My identity has been revealed. 



After writing this all down, I've come to realize that I really am a perfect candidate for clandestine operations. CIA, NASA, FBI, Obama: hit me up. I promise, my lips are sealed!

Midterms

Hiding from homework doesn't actually make it go away but I recommend it anyway. Did you know homework can't find you if you hide in your bed and pull up the covers all the way? Thought I should let you know.

Most high schoolers enter college woefully uninformed about some key things: getting enough sleep, doing laundry, and, most importantly, taking midterms. Future freshmen, allow me to make something abundantly clear for you now, so that you won't have to go through the psychological trauma of discovering it later: the college midterm season is not a hellish week, or even two weeks, of stress and sleeplessness. No, midterm season is an academic behemoth that drags on from the last week of September through mid-November. I want you to imagine a common garden slug, slimy and shell-less and pathetic. Now, enlarge that slug in your head until it's the size of a German Shepard. That monstrosity of a slug is midterms, and it's about to slime all over your little collegiate existence. You're welcome.

To cope with the stress and emotional upheaval of midterm season, many students turn to ice cream, binge watching Netflix, and good ol' denial. The list below includes some of the many lies we tell ourselves during this time of year.

1. "When midterms are over, I'll finally be able to relax!"
     False: When midterms are over, you'll finally be studying for finals.
2. "I took the AP in high school, so I'm good."
     False: Contrary to what the College Board would like you to believe, APs are still high school classes.
3. "This midterm is just a test with an inflated ego. I don't need to study that hard."
     False: Study.
4. "I'm going to fail this midterm and I'm going to fail this class."
     False: Even though you majorly messed up on this midterm (two standard deviations away from the average? Really??), there's still another midterm and a final left. You'll probably be able to salvage your grade.
5. "I did not cry in the fetal position afterwards."
     False: We've all done it.
6. "The curve will save me."
     False: Probably not.
7. "I studied enough."
     False: Okay this is just a blatant lie and you know it. Watching American Horror Story is not constructive when you're preparing for an Anthro midterm.
8. "The ritual sacrifice I performed three days ago will save my grade."
     False: You really are desperate.
9. "That midterm was horrible. My life is over."
     False: Your life isn't over, but this list is.

How to College

I met every single one of these people during Welcome Week and I still eat breakfast alone. (Shout out to Trader Joe's for the awesome Apple Cinnamon Oatmeal).

Welcome to college. You're moved in, you've started classes, and you think you have some friends (I mean, you eat dinner with them and that's all that matters). If there's one thing you've done five hundred times, it's have the typical "Introductory Conversation." This involves being grilled by some incoming freshman who is probably feeling just as lost as your are, but who is trying to cover it up by shoving their intellectual diversity down your throat. If I had a dollar for every conversation that came to "So, what's your major?" within the first minute and a half, I could buy Chancellor Dirk's mansion. College is a place where people are always asking you what you do. It's like everyone is following these steps for conversation from the Basic College Handbook.

Step 1: Say your name.

Step 2: Ask for the other person's name. Promptly forget it.

Step 3: Ask them what they're majoring in.

Step 4: Nod numbly and act like you care.

Step 5: Scramble and question your life choices as you attempt to tell them what you plan to do with your sorry existence.

Step 6: Bury your humiliation by reminding yourself that they're tuning out the sound of your voice anyway.

Step 7: Try desperately to seem interesting.

Step 8: Fail.

Step 9: Rinse, repeat.

Step 10: Give up and go get ice cream.

If you can follow these steps, I can almost guarantee that you'll find someone to eat with on the first night. If you'd don't follow the steps, chances are you'll have some awkward conversations, but you might actually make friends, not just acquaintances.

Llama luv

Found llamas on the corner today after class. What can I say? I go to Berkeley.

Llamas actually make better friends than humans do. Here are some reasons why.

1) Llamas are the perfect cuddle buddies. They're soft, gentle, and you are unlikely to develop feelings for them. If you do develop feelings for your llama friend, you should probably seek the help of a trained professional, because that's a situation too messed up to let you friends deal with.
2) If you need to practice braiding someone's hair and your friends can't sit still (or you just don't have friends), a llama would probably let you braid its fur. Probably.
3) Llamas are vegetarian, so you don't have to be.
4) If you're late to class, your llama might give you a ride. Do you have a human friend that would give you a piggy-back ride cross-campus? Didn't think so.
5) Llamas are the ultimate statement accessory. Everyone will be dying to know why you thought it was a good idea to tie the llama's harness around your waist.
6) Llamas make the best wingmen: fluffy, cute, and they won't flirt with your person of interest.
7) Llamas won't throw off your girl-guy ratio.
8) Llamas are #organic.
9) If you're playing hide and seek with some of your human friends, you could hide in your llama's fur and not be found for days.

I'm sure there are other reasons but I'm pretty tired and can't think of them right now so if you befriend a llama please let me know what I missed.



10) Everyone will be wondering why the hell you brought a llama to a party.

Summer Book Binge

Hey, hello! It's Alexandra, returned from the void. Sorry for the prolonged absence. I've been busy doing a whole lot of nothing. You know, just the summertime usual. I haven't exactly been doing nothing, though. I've landed an internship working at the UCI art galleries (how swank), and I've been careening up and down the 5 alongside 18-wheelers on my way to and from orientation at Cal. Yay!

frands i made.
(pc to Marina, frand on the left)

Summertime, in the beginning, always feels like a rolling hill full of beautiful spring flowers and butterflies and maybe even a unicorn, where deer ticks carrying the viral pathogen for Lyme disease are nowhere to be found. You sit in awe, loathe to disturb the peace. Days slip by, then weeks, as you neglect your plans ("This summer, I'm going to hang out with friends all the time!" "I'm going to write a novella!" "I'm going to finish last summer's novella!", etc).  Then suddenly, four weeks into sitting and doing absolutely nothing, you realize that a crew of earth movers has showed up at the base of your hill and is planning on leveling the hill off for a new neighborhood of cookie-cutter suburban homes! No! There goes your paradise. 

My family's summer tradition is to go to the library and pick up a huge load of books. I usually round up at least enough books for me to a) make myself feel really intelligent and to validate my self worth, and to b) make me feel really inadequate when I've managed to finish less than half of the novels when they all come due. Part of the difficulty in finishing everything I've taken out is that I usually check out 89% classics, and then I sneaks in some fun, juicy reads just to keep things interesting. Once I start in on the fun, though, it's really difficult to force yourself back to Camus. For example, yesterday, I read one and a half Sophie Kinsella novels in about four hours, but today I stated a novel by Toni Morrison and a novel by Maxine Hong-Kingston. So I'm not that terrible, right?  

A slight downside to the huge library load right at the start of summer is that, for me, reading is such a compulsive and all-consuming task that I spend more days than I'd like to admit wondering if I've ever gotten up to brush my teeth. Gross, I know, but by the end of the book-binge, I generally feel as if I've lost all knack for social interaction, which is a great way to start off college, don't you think? Any way, I've spent too much writing this up--I've got 20 books left and only 40 days left until move in. Wish me luck!

Train Travel

This past weekend, my family and I made the trek up to the Bay Area to celebrate my great aunt and uncle's 50th wedding anniversary. Instead of driving or flying, my parents decided that we would take the train up to Santa Clara. This means that I spent twelve hours each way sitting on the train watching a lot of countryside pass by, which was fantastic because California is gorgeous. Travelling on the train, though, also means contending with the other people travelling on the train. When you're taking the train for a longer trip, you usually come across a rather odd mix of people. There was, for example, one woman who asked my sister to save a seat, and then left socks to make sure the seat would not be taken.  There was a couple, seated directly in front of me, that chose to completely disregard all social qualms regard PDA. There was a woman who was on the phone probably 80% of the time, and who somehow managed to speak on the phone while it rang simultaneously.

Now I don't know if you've noticed this, but trains and planes often have huge, thrumming climate control systems that keep the space at an even 72 during the duration of your travel. These systems also serve the very noble purpose of dampening the sounds and conversations of the people around you. Unfortunately, the AC on the particular train that I was on yesterday kept shutting off at random intervals, meaning the gross smacking sounds from the couple in front of me (they're really into each other) and the woman's constant phone conversations from two seats up ("Was the zucchini big enough?") were all too audible. 

With the loss of the white noise that had been muffling god knows what, I realized that we're often lulled into a false sense of security, leading us to act in public as we would in private. Let this serve as a reminder that trains, planes, buses, and other forms of public transport are, in fact , public (I know, shocking). So, before you decide to call up your podiatrist and detail the problem with your big toe or watch the latest episode of South Park without headphones, remember: you're not at home, you're sitting in a metal tube that's hurdling through space.

Sayonara, High School

The end of high school has begun to finally sink in, bit by unsettling bit. When I saw a woman eating Cup Noodles, I realized I would never buy a cup of that neon yellow MSG-ridden water again at snack from the student store (actually, that's probably a good thing). Yesterday, I remembered that I had never hugged my favorite teacher goodbye and I realized that I would never again walk into her classroom and spend hours making art. When my best friend described his future roommates to me, I realized that we're all about to leave, and though we'll come back for a few months at a time, things won't ever be the same.

In real life, relationships usually fizzle out and dissipate into oblivion, but with the end of high school, close relationships with friends and teachers are severed suddenly, because unlike in college, hanging out with your teachers outside of school is... weird.

Another strange thing about graduating is the realization that relationships you could have had, friendships that could have grown deeper, are suddenly cut short, destined by ill fate and the conventions of our educational system to peter out in their infancies.

Even though the sudden change is disconcerting and uncomfortable at times, I'm trying not to loose sight of all of the amazing people I'll meet this fall at Cal and the opportunities for growth that lie ahead for me and my friends. I think we leave the pimple-ridden pre-pubescent annals of middle school assuming that that period of social awkwardness is over. College, though is just another time for rapid, probably awkward change.

So, though leaving my friends and my school and my teachers is uncomfortable and disconcerting,  I'm looking forward to college as a delightfully awkward, probably hormonal period of growth and discovery.

GO BEARS!

Hire Me!

With my bundles of cash, I plan to buy this bronze boy, because if you can't find a real-live bronzed and toned boy, I say use the dinero to buy a boy made of bronze instead. 

I'm really lucky. I haven't had to work all throughout high school, because my parents give me a small (okay, tiny) monthly allowance. 

As you probably know, I just turned 18, so I've decided to get a job. Instead of getting a job at Stonefire or Jamba Juice, I've decided to go for something more chic: Nordstrom. I really think I'm a great candidate for a job at a place like Nordstrom. I'm stylish, articulate, and I will tell you if look like crap. I will help save you money by talking customers out of making their purchase because Really? You need another pair of dark wash skinny jeans? I'm also very focused and goal oriented. I plan to quit this damn job as soon as I have enough money to buy a ticket to France. But don't worry, I'm completely committed to Nordstrom in the long term. As soon as I run out of cash, I'll be back and my schedule will be totally open, so I can work overtime! I just can't wait to become part of a community; a community that gets you great discounts on really nice clothes. 

Responsibility!!!

When people started singing to me this morning, I curled up like a disgruntled cat and made this face, as captured by the wonderful Sarah Sukardi. (She's also a fan of this here blob and she really likes the name Jonetsu Fervor. Shout-out to you, Sarah. Also she helps me in Comp Sci all the time. Okay, shout-out over.)

Welcome to adulthood, Alexandra. Well, thanks!

As I mentioned earlier this week, today is my birthday. I am the ripe legal age of 18. It has been a wonderful, beautiful day and I have all of the truly wonderful people in my life to thank for that. Y'all are really special.

Being 18 now is a little scary. All day, I've had this fear that I, the model citizen that I am, will be pulled over for some stupid offense and be held fully accountable for it because, in the eyes of the law, I am now an adult... dun dun dun....

People now expect me to be somewhat competent in the real world and to understand the way bureaucracy works. I am not prepared for this. The DMV is a scary place, as is the line at Chipotle.

Adulthood is a process, so here's to making a few jarring mistakes in the near future! Yay!

I'm Fine

Most of the time, if you ask me how I am and I say "I'm fine," it's a total lie. Not only am I not fine, I'm probably secretly wishing you would notice that I'm really not fine and try to make me feel better. I'm not sure if not telling people how I'm actually doing is a defensive maneuver/girl thing, or if it's just something I do because I hate to sound weak/annoying/emotional (and all of those three things sort of go together in my head, which I realize is not great).

Sometimes, I'll say that I'm cold or that something is heavy, but as soon as someone offers their coat to me or offers to take something off of my hands, I immediately pop back with "I'm fine!" It's as if I'm going to win an award for being independent if I refuse help from other people, which is really stupid. Not only will no one care whether or not I take the coat or give something to someone to hold, if I ask for help and then refuse it, I'm still stuck doing whatever it was that I spoke up about in the first place.

I also feel particularly uncomfortable volunteering good things about myself in conversation without a proper segue. For example, my birthday is on Friday, and instead of just telling people that my birthday's coming up, I keep my mouth shut because I don't want to sound self centered or selfish. I want cupcakes, dammit, and I should be allowed to ask for some! 

The same thing happens when something good happens to me, like when I'm recognized for doing something well. Instead of telling people straight off, I wait so as not to potentially injure someone else's feelings. Then when someone else tells me they've been recognized for the same thing or when they've won the same award, I say "Oh, me, too!" And then I kick myself repeatedly for holding my tongue, because I realize that other people think it's okay to share good news, so I should be able to do so, too. I'm too goddamn empathetic, and I'm pretty sure that gets me into trouble sometimes. 

I guess the point of this is to say that even though I usually seem pretty even keel all of the time, happy and unstressed, I struggle a lot with putting myself out there and speaking up for what I want. Sometimes it's hard to understand what other people are going through, but understanding and being sympathetic is really important. Life would be awful if we were solitary; the friends and family that surround us on a daily basis are our strongest supporters, and it is important to be open with them about our wants and needs.

Creeps

Happy Friday! Oh shit, it's Thursday and I've made that mistake at least five times already today. You know what else is almost as disgruntling as remembering it's not Friday? It's that really awkward moment when some random creepy guy approaches you and the only thing you can think of is how to get out of the conversation. I hate it. Why can 't I just curl up and have the random guys who hit on me leave me alone? I'm putting my foot down! I've compile a fool-proof list of ways to keep the creeps away. 

1. Talk to yourself at full voice. Nobody wants to hit on crazy.
2. Cover yourself from the chin down. Guys only notice girls when their skin’s showing.
3.   Show off your personal style by dressing like a bag lady!
4.  Pretend you’re deaf.
5. Pretend you’re blind.
6.  Pretend you’re Helen Keller .
7.  Show off your personalities. All  of them. At once.
8.  Keep your face in a permanent, horrifying snarl.
9. Pretend to be catholic.
10. Actually be catholic.
11. Become a nun .
12. Become a man.
13. Loudly discuss your plans to move to Rwanda.
14. Develop a twitch.
15. Apply abstract expressionist makeup, à la Jackson Pollock.
16.  Avoid all social contact by pursuing an online degree in lunar engineering.
17. Bring up your third arm in conversation as much as possible.
18.   When he asks for your name, list the names of your 33 cats instead, because they define you more than your name.
19. Expound loudly on the benefit of vasectomies.

Special thanks to the beautiful, magnanimous, awe-inspiring McKenna Fitzgerald for providing the spark for this post. You rock!

Do re (it's all about) mi

Here's your joke for the day: choir concerts are so fun! Did you laugh? Oops turns out I'm a choir kid, so technically I'm not really allowed to make that joke. 

But I feel like there are really only five types of people who join choir, and the rest of the school's population does something normal like band or orchestra. Choir just attracts crazy. 

If you've never been to choir, here are a few of the ridiculous kids you are bound to encounter: 

The musical theater nut always knows the lyrics to every single song in all 14 of their all-time favorite musicals and won't let you tell them they're wrong. Even though they are. You'd better get out of the way if there's a mirror around because chances are they're already there and have put on 7 layers of stage makeup. Who doesn't want to look like Joan Rivers?!

The girls with perfect pitch will turn around and pull a face when you're flat, which is almost always. Wait, is she pulling a face or does she just look like that? 

The guy who walks around school playing an acoustic guitar and who annoys everyone. He has the entire KROQ music library memorized and will harmonize with you to make your warbling sound kind of cool and grunge-soulful instead of just really pitchy. 

The kids who just immigrated here don't speak English. Why are they in choir, then? Because their counselor said so or because they got lost and this is where they ended up. Either way, when they open their mouths, noise comes out. You could say they're guaranteed to be on American Idol. 

The sopranos sing (screech) the melody, meaning we are the most important part of the choir. We also read the top line of music, further proof that no other section really matters. We have the biggest egos, the highest notes, and the most obnoxious personalities.  

Get Your Life Together

Hello friends. Today is the kind of day when I try to forget that I have lots of homework that I'm supposed to do instead of eating lunch. Two weeks until graduation and I'm still doing this kind of crap even though these grades really don't matter. Damn my sense of responsibility! Damn my academic mind! So this is all you're getting today because I'm just surrendering to life and my homework at the moment.

In the meantime, please enjoy some fun photos of the awards ceremony last night. I managed to somehow win six awards in legitimate categories. Here are two really fun photos for you to enjoy! And by fun I mean so blurry you can't tell if those are people or chicken nuggets. Real post tomorrow, I promise.

Very so excite.

Bootiful as always.

CONGRATS

Awards are a pretty big deal. Tonight are the Senior Awards and I was invited which I guess is kind of a big deal. It's always total surprise to me when I receive my award, because it's usually for something I didn't even consider being recognized in. Usually I try to guess and I guess wrong. This year though, I'm pretty sure my award will be one of the following.

• Mediocrity in the Face of Senioritis

        This award is granted to seniors who are able to maintain Bs or higher in all classes even though they don't give a crap.

• Least Improved

        If you are a senior and your progress has actually been regress, then you could be eligible for this award!

• The You're Not Dead Award For Living Seniors

          You didn't die in a drunken car wreck, from cancer, or from a heart attack when you realized you had a paper due tomorrow! Congratulations. 

• Best Blog

         I think this one's pretty self explanatory. 

• Award for Outstanding Self Service

         Have you helped the community? Maybe not. But have you helped yourself? Yes, you have. You helped yourself to two extra cookies yesterday when your conscience wasn't looking and you helped yourself get an internship when you put totally made-up stuff on your resume (not me, I promise). Life is all about doing what it takes, and taking what it takes, to get yourself to the finish line.

• Award for Academic Honesty

        You didn't cheat or copy anyone's homework once all of high school. Congratulations! But being a stickler for academic integrity also means that you were an annoying tattletale throughout freshman and sophomore years. Here's a paper with a gold border and fancy script to make up for the fact that you had no friends.

In all seriousness, though, it is an honor to have been invited to the awards and I look forward to seeing everyone tonight looking spiffy and being rewarded for all of their hard work!

My First Song!

Just look at me. If I look the part, does it matter what my songs sound like? No. 

I have found my calling. I'm sure of it. I'm abandoning my college plans and instead I'm going to pursue a career as a songwriter. Check out my very first attempt. I think it's going to be a chart topper. 

Hey boy! I think you're really cute.
I'm using my female wiles to attract you.
You have a girlfriend, but that's okay.
You probably wouldn't go for me anyway.

Hey boy! Let's go grab some coffee.
You'll see me caffeinated, and then you'll really want me.
I get agitated and my skin goes kinda blotchy.
But that's no reason to say you'd be better off without me.

Why does this always happen?
The guys I like, they don't like me.
Why does this always happen?
The guys that do are so geeky.

Hey boy! I'm feeling really lonely.
You should come on over and you can be my homie.
I that know you don't like me, and it's not okay.
I overly attached and I want you to staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.

Why does this always happen?
The guys I like, they don't like me.
Why does this always happen?
My life's gonna be so solitary.


Hope you had a great time jammin' to that one! More to come once I sign that record deal!

Looking for a Roomate

(Worst roommate ever)

Academics

What's your major?
Triple major in molecular and cellular biology, neurobiology, and mechanical engineering. 

How important are grades to you v. social life?
95/5.

When do you prefer to study? 
Every waking moment.

Does noise bother you when you're studying?
Does nuclear fallout bother you when you're studying? Yes. 

Do you have to be alone when you're studying?
On a scale of 1 to dead, how quiet will you be?


Sharing a Room/Suite

Have you ever shared a room before (most Freshmen will be sharing with at least one other student)?
I've shared a room with my shattered dreams for as long as I can remember.

Would it bother you a lot to room with someone who is gay or transgender? 
Don't look at me when I'm changing.

Are you a night owl/early bird?
I am nocturnal. 

Do you have good personal hygiene (shower daily, use deodorant, etc.)?
No. I believe in living with a healthy layer of dirt.

Would rooming with someone with body odor gross you out?
I room with myself and I'm not grossed out.

Do you snore or talk in your sleep?
Yes and yes. I have recited "The Jabberwocky" from memory in my sleep.

Do you walk in your sleep (in other words, am I gonna have to chain you to your bed or chase you down)?
I will supply my own chains.

Are you tidy/somewhat sloppy/a slob?
I hate being forced to conform to the confines of drawers. 

Are you strongly religious/moderately religious/agnostic/athiest-humanist?
I devoutly practice Wicca.

Do you enjoy discussing religion?
Would you enjoy being hexed? 

How do you feel about arranging scheduled "private time".
My private time is all the time. We can schedule time for you to talk to me during a 15 minute window.

Mind opposite-sex sleep-overs?
Yes.

If you are leaving for the week-end or spending the night somewhere else, will you let me know?
No. You are not my mother. If I die, I die.

Do you object to roommate having sex while you're in the room?
Not at all. Please do.

How often do you talk on the phone?
I don't own a phone. I don't want the government to be able to find me.

Do you have any unusual habits?
Not that I know of (but you may not like porcupines).

Do you share personal property/food freely, or do you want to be asked first every time?
You take my things, I end you.

Do you talk out problems when you're upset, or do you need to be left alone?
I don't have problems. You have problems.

How to Dance???

This is me, pretending to be a hawk. These are my friends, wondering why they're still friends with me. 

Post-prom I have realized that I am probably not a very good dancer, since my "dancing" involves moving my butt from side to side and pantomime-singing to the song that's playing. Since I don't have the core strength to move my hips like a Polynesian dancer, nor do I have the coordination or attitude to bust out the cat-daddy, I am left with scant options.

1) The Pump and Jump

Jump up and down while pumping your fist in the air to the beat of the music (or not!). This is your all-purpose white man dance, appropriate for Bar Mitzvahs and the club, alike.

2) The Seizure

Tense up you body. Now flail, flail, flail!Particularly good for dubstep, or the pulsing beat of neurons misfiring.

3) The Chicken Dance

I'm pretty sure you know this one. Flap your arms like an idiot and wiggle your butt to that pumping beat. This dance is a cult classic, but be warned: dancing like this in public could make you look like a social outcast.

4) The Twerk

Do this one against a wall or a guy's crotch; you're still not Miley Cyrus.

5) When all else fails, just move your body to the music like no one is watching (except we're all watching and totally judging you). 

This is my date.  He had pneumonia. 

Dear World, Sorry I'm So Pretentious

Age 12. This is me yelling at you because you're wrong.

Okay, here's a secret (shhh internet, don't tell anyone!): when I was in middle school I really wanted to be a famous fashion blogger. I was so jealous of Tavi because we were the same age and I couldn't perceive how her blog was superior to my own, so instead of being welcoming and engaging, I tried to make my whole gammut more "exclusive". That technique did not work. At all. And if my blog has some cult following in Serbia, I have yet to be informed of it.

Maybe as a result of wanting to be "exclusive," my entire aura during middle school (and 9th and maybe even 10th grade) screamed "pretentious child". In my old Blogger profile, I listed The Da Vinci Code as one of my favorite books followed by the parenthetical note, "(yes...I know! I can't believe I fell for this pop fiction)". Excuse me while I hide in the corner. I was 100% snob. Now I'm a cool 67%. Better than nothing, right?

Age 13. This is me silently judging you because you're only wearing one watch.

So to the world that had the misfortune of encountering me as a middle schooler, I'm sorry. But to the people who had to endure my immature, elitist judgement? I prostrate myself before you and beg for forgiveness.

Age 17. Pretending that I care.

AND TO ALL Y'ALL WHO MEET ME NOW... OOPS?! GUESS YOU WERE WARNED. 

Happy

Here's a picture where you can't really see anything except... look! Important people in funky chairs and huge Emmy statues. How fancy. Pharrell was there, I promise. 

I'm going to to tell you about Friday night, but before I do, let me preface this story by saying that I, too think my life is crazy. 

So it's Friday afternoon, the sun is shining, and I'm trudging home after choir practice. I'm not thinking about anything much except Sweet Jesus, why don't I drive. I walk in to my parents sitting on the couch. They ask me about my plans for the evening and then coolly tell me we've been invited to see "some guy named Pharrell Williams perform tonight in North Hollywood." Okay, yes please!

The night was billed as a talk with a panel and then a performance by Pharrell. What actually happened was this: we filed into a small theater and listened to the men who run the Grammys beg voting members of the Television Academy for an Emmy for two long hours. Read four old white men taking a self aggrandizing trip down memory lane while LL Cool J, Pharrell, and Nile Rogers looked on and lent some star-power clout to the other guys. 

I did realize from the talk that Pharrell is completely deserving of the success he has achieved. Throughout the presentation he was humble, eloquent, and very knowledgable and passionate about music. I guess I should have realized this before, but people who make it big are often really talented individuals (sometimes I'm a little slow on the uptake).  

Finally after sitting and listening to the old guys talk, Pharrell performed "Happy", accompanied by the marching band from Los Angeles High School. I felt a lot of solidarity for those kids because I, too, have spent way too long locked up in music rehearsals after school. Children, I feel your pain. 


To end this post I would like to mention that some random guy who presumably works in television told me that I was funny after overhearing some snarky remark I made about the reception. Yeah, that's right, world. Even if you think my writing's lame, someone out there thinks I'm funny. Booyah.

Hybrids: Just Say No

I love the Earth just as much as the next girl, but before you shell out the bucks for a car that claims to help the planet rather than hurt it, here are some things you should consider.

WHY WE SHOULD ALL INVEST IN VEHICLES THAT COULD "DECIMATE THE PLANET"

• Using up the world's fossil fuels means you've given those damn engineers a deadline for creating alternative fuel solutions.
• You finally have room for your entourage... if only you had an entourage.
• Your ego finally fits in your car.
• School bus break down? You can take the whole third grade to the aquarium!
• You'll soon befriend the guy working at the gas station and he might give you free RedBull!
• If buying gas makes you broke, you can live in your car.
• Guzzle is a fun word to say.  

How to Flirt With Your Crush

Tips and tricks to snag your crush! (maybe)

• Acquire his number for homework help, and then tell him your life story over text.
• Send him cute pictures of you doing everyday stuff, like washing your cat or sorting the laundry to let him know you're down to Earth.
• Wear clothes that are as short and revealing as possible, especially when it's cold. Your goosebumps will show him your dedication to looking good for your man.
• Always refer to your crush as "your man".
• Smile a lot when you're around your man--he'll want to make sure you have healthy gums.
• Offer to do his homework for him. It's not cheating when you do it out of love!
• Offer him a hand massage every day after class.
• If you're looking bad, put on a ton of makeup until you look like a normal human again. God forbid he should know what you actually look like!
• Trip and sprain your ankle in front of him. If he shows any concern within the next two weeks, he is your one true love.
• When it's time to tell him how you feel, act it out in pantomime; actions speak louder than words!

Doodle Shame

This is what I did instead of studying for Poli Sci. So scary.

Sometimes I look around me during class and get really self concious about my doodles. Like Wah, I just draw circles and triangles but that girls is MONET! And then there are the sad people who doodle and then immediately erase the doodles like they're ashamed to have the dregs of creativity stain their chem notes. Creativity is not something to be ashamed of! It's art! It's life! It's awesome! Yas.

WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE THING TO DOODLE? I LIKE TO DRAW NAKED PEOPLE. COMMENT, YA GOONS!

Thanks, Google

My little sister is a morbid little weirdo. She has been searching for coffins online recently, mostly because she's into stuff like that, but also a little bit because she has been writing a paper about momento mori. 

Well, thanks to Google's handy-dandy services, I am now barraged by ads for coffins when all I want to do is read Spark Notes. See exhibit A above, which I have highlighted for your ease of comprehension

(Thanks, MS Paint. I'm your #2 fan.)

#BetterRomanceNovelTitles

Eat your heart out, muchachos.

• Hugs and Herpes
• Romeo and That Cute Guy From the Bar on 7th 
• Catch Me If You Can, a Double Amputee Romance
• How I Miraculously Got Laid
• Sunset in Savannah, A Romance for the Elderly
• Autumn Fire, Love in Retirement
• Fifty Shades of Neigh, an Animal Romance
• Breaking Yawn, Romance and Narcolepsy 

Happy hump day!

Being Hip

Yesterday, I spent too long on Facebook stalking... myself. And the conclusion I came to, besides Thank god I had braces, was Wow I'm actually really hip.

Damn I look cool standing on the train platform with my sunglasses and that bag I bought in Paris last winter. 

Who's that girl in the mom jeans and the awesome bob? Oh, that's me. 

Yeah, that's right. I'm wearing a velvet jacket and combat boots.

I have actual friends who actually live in France. Oui, oui.

Oh hello, casual rock star friend. 

Let me snap a picture of you with my pearly purple Polaroid. (Can I get some snaps for that alliteration?)

That casual turban.

Now I feel a little bit gross. Like a really big narcissist. And also hello, hi internet! I spend time stalking myself on Facebook and don't you judge me for it. I know y'all do it too.