It's Sunday, the sun is shinning, birds are birding...flowers are...flowering? Overall, nature is out there being its glorious, miraculous self...and I'm stuck inside a tiny cubicle of office space listening to middle-school era dance music, and watching inebriated college girls face (and fail miserably) an epic battle with their 6" heels.

     I've never been a huge party goer. I had a brief stint of minor alcoholism in my senior year of high school, but so did (probably) the other 80% of American teenagers out there. Also, at least 8/10 girls here are wearing dresses so short I'm expecting an ass-cheek to fall out any second...but at least they won't have to worry about overheating like all the men wearing tuxedos.

     One observation I've made about drunk biddies? They use their high heels as their excuse of why they can't walk straight. Which is funny, because they definitely ARE drunk, and I'm wondering how many ankles are going to be in need of icing tomorrow because these girls are so stubborn. Also, most of the frat party we're hosting takes place outside on the lawn. I'm gonna let you in on a little secret: High heels and grassy lawns do NOT mix. Add in alcohol and you have the perfect recipe for disaster. I think all these girls should just revert back to elementary school, and start pretending the grass is lava...for their own safety!

     The thing that depresses me about this is before I always stood by all judgmental (or amused, depends how much their level of drunken stupidity affects my day) because they were all kids my age, and I sure as hell didn't act as graceless as them...crap-scallions. Sadly, today, it hit me: even the UPPERCLASSMEN of this fraternity are younger than I am. Fuck, I feel old! I know I'm not actually old, in the grand scheme of things...but the fact that I also no longer recognize any of the music they're playing does not reassure me. Or maybe it does...music today sucks so I should probably be happy I don't recognize the current Lil Wayne song playing downstairs. (Hey, at least I can still identify Weezy, right? 'Cause that's obviously what's an important, determining factor in age...)

Living in the Moment

Internet, I've had a lot of issues over the course of, say, my lifetime (give or take 5 years for at one point being an incapable infant) with, both literally AND figuratively "living in the moment". I've recently taken a few steps to re-evaluate my life, and what the biggest causes of stress are in my life, and they all tie back to one very simple reason: myself.

Now, I may be speaking for only myself, but from what I've observed I think that most people are their own cause for unhappiness. I don't mean we all are consciously trying to sabotage our chances at happiness, but subconsciously we are making our own lives hell.

The reason I say this is because, for as long as I can remember, I've always been five steps ahead of myself. I plan dream vacations I don't have a means to pay for. I dream of having beautiful flowers and gardens yet don't take the time to sew my seeds. Sadly, for a while, I was even imagining my future self without my amazing boyfriend of 4 years.

Needless to say, it was effecting my happiness immensely. I was becoming depressed. I had no motivation to do anything. I treated the man I love like a stranger living in my house. I didn't talk to friends, go out, socialize...nada. I'm not suicidal, but I will admit one day I spent thinking about the peace of non-existence. A chance to get the voices of doubt in my head to just shut the fuck up for a minute so I could think straight.

'What did I do to change?' you may ask. I wish I had a better explanation, but in all honestly, I got the fuck over myself.

I was so overly sensitive about where I was in life as opposed to people I graduated high school with. People who are off pursuing PhD's already. People who are traveling/working abroad. Not so much people getting married/having kids, that part I can definitely wait on...but still. I was comparing myself to people around me, and you know what? Comparing your place in life to others is a complete waste of time, because inevitably it'll buy you a one-way ticket to Bumsville.

So here's what you CAN do to buck yourself up!

First, be your own person. Every single person has their own time and place on this Earth, and I don't mean that in a religious or spiritual sense because, well, I'm an atheist; but from a sociological perspective, your life chances are affected by where and how you're raised as a child. How many social connections you have. Money. So if you're not successful straight out of high school, chances are you just didn't have all the right resources to get your unique talents noticed right away.

Secondly, don't get caught up in yourself. Remember that there are (and always will be,) people out there who care about you and love you deeply, and you're unhappiness makes them unhappy, too! Enjoy the little moments. Take time to appreciate everything instead of rushing through stuff in hopes of reaching a better tomorrow. We have plenty of time to realize our mortality when we're dead.

Thirdly, don't think about mortality. You know why animals in the wild (well, the ones not being savagely hunted or endangered by commercial development) seem so carefree and happy? BECAUSE THEY DON'T have a stream of conscious that allows them to fixate on the idea of their own mortality. Animals do what the got to do to survive. We as humans (the greater portion of the population more than others) have things EXTREMELY easy. We don't have to hunt our own food. We don't have to let distance determine where we go. We invented appliances to ease the "struggles" of every day life. So instead of living to survive; we instead have to survive ourselves.

The Societal Deception of Self-Image vs. True Beauty

     Internet, I know it's been a while since I've written to you.

     I also know I broke my promise to write in you every day literally the day I made said promise. I just don't like constrictions --okay!? Haha, I'm just kidding. I have been in a funk with writing; not because there is a lack of things to write about, but because there are in fact a surplus of excruciatingly important topics I don't know how to even BEGIN to explain. First off, why is there so much sadness and fear in the world right now? Not that there hasn't always been sadness and fear, but the topic I'm referring to is this ridiculous and gruesome series of bombings taking place in the Boston area.

     Now, I've never been to Boston, but it's a city I've always been fascinated by and wanted to visit. It's not that I'm never going to visit due to this series of events, but I'm disappointed in the amount of fear it has instilled in me. I'm also disappointed that today I was very caught up in my self-image getting ready for work, and that I was letting the way I looked bring me down emotionally (even though realistically, I know I look fine and no one is probably paying attention anyways!)

     Then I had an epiphany; perhaps self-image issues don't just stem from what the media and society claims is "acceptable" or "attractive," but maybe for some people it is a reflection of the way we feel inside. I felt in insurmountable amount of guilt when I realized how silly it was of me to be concerned about things so trivial, when there are people who can't leave their houses today (nay, every day!) in fear of losing their life! Now, I'm sure there is still a large percentage of the population who is just simply narcissistic, but maybe the path to feeling beautiful and confident must be found by figuratively starting from the inside-out.

     I haven't figured out a way to make myself feel useful to society or my environment, and until I do I doubt I'll ever be truly happy with my overall self-image. Brain storming process has initiated on how to change this factor about myself...but I think it's a good idea for everyone to take a step back and reevaluate themselves every now and then: you may just discover something about yourself you never noticed before.

Rantings of a Book Worm

     I've been thinking a lot lately of how I've developed a bit of a social distaste towards others who don't read. Now, there's a huge difference between people who admit they don't try & those who simply state "I don't like reading." What's not to like!? Not to sound super captain-obvious, but language and literature are a huge factor in the progression of human civilization! It breaks my heart to see the foundations of physical handwriting crumbling in our education system, and children are spending more time with electronics and less time with books. HOW DOES ONE SIMPLY NOT LONG FOR THE SMELL OF OLD BOOKS!?


(By the way, that smell is caused by lignin, a polymer that enhances the life of paper. You can buy "old book scented" candles in specialty shops. That is a hint that someone should purchase said candle, and gift it to me!)

     Now, back to my rant. I understand not having time to read: I have a 30 book challenge I'm hoping to conquer over the course of this year, yet I've hit a lull in my reading routine and am currently only on book 6/30...which is not quite as good of a pace as I'd hoped. However, with the turn of beautiful weather, it's been easy returning to my old routine of sitting in the warm sunshine with a book in my hands! Those people who claim they hate reading have never experienced that joy. That emptiness after finishing a book you didn't want to end. That longing towards fictional characters you just wish existed in real life. Occasionally, the rage you feel after completing a "bad book" when you had a stack of perfectly lovely books you'd have much rather read.

     Do they not understand that cliche saying "When you get knocked down, dust yourself and get back up"? I know that saying is fairly applicable to anything, so why should someone who has had a couple of bad reading experiences deter them enough to say they dislike all books? Perhaps they just have yet to find the perfect book or genre suited to their tastes? I'm on a never ending mission to encourage --nay, force-- reading onto my friends and family. I vow to be that person who gifts books for every occasion! You know why? BECAUSE BOOKS AREN'T LAME, and I will continue to try and prove that. The satisfaction I get from reading books is something I believe every person is entitled to, and I hope to inspire others to share their books and write their thoughts and share them, for what use is language and writing if we never utilize their purpose: to reach new worlds of thought.

Franco-fun? Mais, non!

    The other day, I was on Pinterest (guilty pleasure, save your judgment!) and perusing the multitude of French inspired boards I follow, when I stumbled upon this fascinating article. Over the years, there has been a certain stereotype associated with the French people: they come off as frigid, and are believed to hate all things not French. While it is true the French are a proud culture, and have much to boast considering their exports in gourmet wines, foods, and Paris being a fashion capitol; the people of France are just. not. happy. A study on the "European Happiness Scale," which ranks 1 being unhappy to 10 being happiest, France scored only a 7.2, ranking almost a full point behind Belgium and Denmark . That means that choosing to live in France increases your chances of unhappiness by a massive 20%!

     Due to this rating, studies have also concluded that France holds the highest percentage of suicide out of all of Europe. Wait...what!?

    Now, I may be biased because I have been a French enthusiast for almost half of my life...but it is completely impossible for me to believe that I'd be unhappy living in France. I'm obsessed with everything relating to French language and culture, and find France as a country to be one of the most aesthetically pleasing places in the world. Yet, simply living in France isn't the cause for unhappiness; being French is.

    The article states that there is a French paradox; the overall wealth and prosperity of the country does not reflect onto the French peoples happiness. Most of these traits are picked up at a young age through social establishments. Makes sense that if the parents are unhappy, their children are unhappy. Here's the kicker though, this paradox exists because the French like being unhappy. They use their unhappiness as a form of social prowess; they can never work hard enough to satisfy their need to devour life's riches. So next time you visit France, remember to appreciate and admire every piece of art, all the wondrous architecture, and every piece of food the French have to offer. The people may not immediately fall in love with you, but they will appreciate your willingness to learn about their culture!


The French --Glad to be Unhappy?

Intro to my Brain

Hello, interweb!


     I've finally realized the irony in being someone who claims to love writing, yet never writes. There's also a sad irony in being a writer who prefers script & paper yet owns a blog. 

     However, as honest and heartfelt as I intend my writing to be on this here blog, not one living soul will ever read my private journals & live to tell the tale. Hell, perhaps not a living soul will read these online posts, either. The writing isn't for the public though, it's for myself. I just put it up for public critique as to further challenge my abilities. Maybe to feel like I'm being more honest with the world. That way if anyone ever gets upset that I haven't told them something, I can just be like "Well, it's on my blog...so you could have read it if you'd wanted to...". Muahaha.

Now back to my infallibly dull teenage journal. My journal entries focused more on "I can't believe I tried so hard to impress people I no longer speak with." variety rather than the "I can't believe I got drunk and hooked up with that guy." type.

OK, so there is one story about me getting super drunk during Spring Break in high school, and jumping between two train cars that were moving (slowly, but surely.) But this is an intro-to-my-mind post, so we'll save that post for a rainy day. (Hey, I said I wrote about dull topics back then, not that I was a dull person in general!)

     It's funny how when you're in high school, the days drag by so much more slowly than adulthood. Or how, after looking back, I realize I used to write about the most trivial things that I'd never care to remember...but all the things I've done that I'm proud of the past couple of years have no written record. And that breaks my heart a wee bit.

     I did, at one point, have an online journal dedicated to my travels abroad in Ireland last January. However, this trip was for a college course, and one of the "less-academically-motivated" girls within my group got a hold of my blog link, and was sneakily trying to pass my journal entries off as her own. Good news is that I blocked her off my page...bad news is I blocked myself off my own page in the process... *sigh*


    Seriously though, why is it that I have to be concerned about ANOTHER GROWN ADULT passing off my work for her own!? I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that maturity is a state of being, not a measurement of age. Also, that certain individuals are just eternally immature rather than just graceful beings with moments of unadulterated inhibition.