Feeling Sorry.

I can't believe that I have only a little over a week left in this place.

I am actually really happy about it.

So I am sitting here waiting for one of my best friends in the universe to come and spend the weekend with me, and it reminds me of how ready I am to leave. After acing this semester, and dealing with the effects of some fair-weather friends, I am exhausted. I wonder if I will ever get back to this place. I have a feeling I will, but there is one thing I can say with complete certainty: I would never want to live here full-time. Am I crazy? I don't think so, at least speaking in these terms. Living in New York City just reminded me of how much I love Philadelphia way more, even though it is twice as flawed and dangerous. Everything here seems to have an air of superficiality: whether it be celebrities just "hanging around" Central Park, the model walking in front of you on 7th Avenue who looks like she spent 40 days and 40 nights fasting in the desert with Jesus, or how everything has to do with looks. I feel uncomfortable wearing jeans and a t-shirt and no makeup, and if I know that that is me, why would I want to survive here? What I love about Philadelphia is that it may not be perfect, or have a billionaire mayor, but it is life to me. If you stay within the right parts (and you DO NOT want to end up in the wrong ones) you can see it all. History, diversity, food, music, love, poverty...it is all there. And you know what? No one gives a damn about what you look like. I know for sure that I do not want to spend the rest of my life in the city, but right now, it seems like the most correct decision I have made in a while. I came to New York for the same reason a lot of other people do, which is, unfortunately, that it sparkled. It was like a shiny new toy, an experience full of glamour and glitter. It was the fashion capital, the setting of countless TV shows and films, and to a naive girl like myself, I thought what better way to prove to people that I can make it on my own is there than moving to New York City? Sitting here now though, writing this, I know that I didn't prove anything to anybody. I just did something, which I knew deep down wasn't for my true happiness, but rather a personal statement, and it was a mistake. I don't regret it. I met a few good people, did some crazy things, and got to experience the glitz first hand, but you know what? I have had my fill. It is time to be honest with myself and the ones I love, and do what makes me truly happy. And even though I still have no clue about where I'll end up, I know that wherever I go, this time, it will be for the right reasons. That's it for now.

Megalomaniac.

I don't think I have been this angry in awhile.

Coming from someone who rarely gets truly angry because I figure there are a lot worse things happening around the world than what I am going through.

But I figure there are times to be overtly selfish. And I can't help but let this time be one of them.

So I just got back to the city from Thanksgiving Break, and it was probably the most eventful break I have had in years. (I say that like I am eighty-something years old...but still...it is true). First, let's get down to one of the core reasons I am so angry at the world right now, and why my typing speed is probably double of what it usually is. I know that this is one of the biggest cop outs ever, but I have an extremely dysfunctional family, and as I become more mature and all, I start to see that there are so many roots and reasons as to why things are the way they are. Anyway, I feel it everywhere now whenever I am with my family. The tension, the awkwardness, and the fact that all of us are getting to a point where we are tired of pretending. Being around everyone is just tiring, and the fact that I am putting this on the internet for the entire world to see makes me seem like a Soviet spy on U.S. soil to them. I hate it. I hate that everyone can't get along and be rational. How the idea of a joke is always at someone's expense. How someone always ends up crying or upset. All of it, the whole nine yards, ends up happening, and I am just so sick of it. And you know what? No one ever notices, but I am starting to see people for who they truly are, and I realize that more of them are truly kind, amazing people outside of the family. I realize that one of them must have given up a lot of what made them who they are, to be a part of this. And I realize that one is so caught up with what is going on within himself, that he doesn't realize how badly he hurts other people sometimes. What is it that makes us so ugly when we are around the people who are supposed to love us no matter what? Because all the love I have ever received from some of these people, now feels purely conditional. Love isn't a word you can just throw around and expect people to believe in. You need to show it, live it, act it-and then people may start believing you, because I don't anymore. Got it?

That's it for now.

Push.

Who said chivalry was dead?

I know it's out there.

So, my best friend has a new guy, (if you are reading this, well congratulations, you're gonna be famous kid), and it makes me question a lot about everything between me and her. Not in a bad sense, but more like an observation of our relationship over the past few years. Now that I am getting a feel for where exactly this is going, this a post about love and friendship. I met my best friend when I was fifteen years old, and even though we both have a little bit of dude in us and we don't share sappy stuff, I feel like one of the luckiest people alive to have the kind of friendship we have. I know, I hardly ever say this kind of stuff out loud (if a blog counts for that matter), but it is true. How does this tie into love? Well two ways. One, most people spend their entire life looking for things that complete them, like a soul mate and all, and they don't even take the time to have a real friendship. Friends are expendable, and I know in the case of women, it is so easy to let go of other people when you have finally met "the one". What happens though, when "the one" doesn't turn out to be who you expected him to be? It leaves you alone, with no one to go to except for your parents or other family members, and in my case, I just don't want to share those kinds of feelings with them sometimes. This may sound so juvenile, but I know it is different for me, because everything that I have been through, no matter how weird or scary or whatever it was, I always had her behind me. We have both been in relationships while we were friends, and even though there were some in there that could have easily led us apart, they didn't. We made the time, we made the effort, because I knew deep down that the only person I trusted apart from myself was not my boyfriend at the time, it was her. And you know what? When we broke up, who was there to pick up the pieces? She was. I didn't have to do anything alone, because she was there, no matter how messy or totally stupid I was being. And to this day, nothing has changed from the minute that we started hanging out, since I had a crazy feeling she would be there if I needed her, even all the way back then...

So now that we have been over that part, let's get to the second.

We both say that when we find the guy that reminds us of each other, then they are going to be someone significant. Now, I feel like this is an excellent philosophy, if I do say so myself, because what is the most significant law of being in a successful, long-term relationship?  It's that that person should be your best friend. Since we have the cheat-sheet of knowing what kind of person could be our best friend, we might as well use it. The relationships come and go, and in the end, when we are talking about a break up or whatever, the statements always go something like this, "Well, I didn't want to tell you then, but I really didn't like your boyfriend" or "Now that I think about it, he was nothing like you either". But you know what she told me the other day, all excitedly over the phone? She told me that this guy thought in colors, which by weird coincidence, is a psychological "disorder" her boyfriend and I both share. He is the first other person who I know about that has it. Weird, huh? I want her to find someone, and based on what I have been hearing, this guy is chivalrous in all the right ways, and even though this never changes, I am so incredibly happy for her and I want everything to go for the best. And of course, when the time comes for me, she'll be there to cheer me on too. Friendships evolve, and even though I will be watching her get married one day to one of the most important best friends of her lifetime, we will always have our deal, and that will never change no matter what.

So...don't let go of the people who really matter. When you find them, you'll know who they are.

And if you still think chivalry is dead, just find another way to look at it.

That's it for now.

Only You.

So I realized that some of my titles have absolutely nothing to do with my post, and this would be one of them. This song has just been stuck in my head for the past 24 hours and so it seemed fitting. Anyways, where to start today? I believe that I am a walking example of Murphy's Law, and in some odd way, I think I'm glad about it. I wouldn't have nearly as many interesting stories to tell or things to laugh about. Let's just start with this past week already (I am including this weekend). So on Friday, all seemed well until I hit the bank on my way to a club. It seemed that I didn't have enough money to even do my laundry the next morning, and I had to overdraw. Look at that! I am officially a broke college student. And boy does it suck while living in my personal version of temptation purgatory. Fast forward to when I get to this filthy club, and Friday night gets a hell of a lot more interesting. I'm not sure if it is legal to share the details, but it was probably in the top five most horrible nights of my life, when I'm being serious and not exaggerating. All I know is that I had some pedophile stick his hand down my pants on the dance floor, some Middle Eastern guy followed me around for a good hour trying to get me to go to his hotel room, and there were so many random drop-offs in that place that I almost fell on my face on the way out, but hey, that is usually my style with things. I spent the rest of the weekend recovering, and studying for my Art History test, which I took tonight, and totally bombed because I'm pretty sure my teacher is just another instrument in my personal form of hell, except she is at the other end of the spectrum than temptation. Who the hell puts A through T as multiple choice answers? Before that, the elevator decided to get stuck and I had to run down 8 flights of stairs, so naturally I was the last one in class, out of breath and dizzy before my mid-term. All of these shenanigans remind me of when a friend told me my life sounded like Bridget Jones' Diary after sharing how I usually end up spending my New Year's Eve alone in the corner of my uncle's house stuffing my face and sneaking mass amounts of champagne. After she said this, I started to see the parallels. I totally have that wrong place, wrong time kind of luck going for me, and I'm sure if my life was made into a movie, people would laugh at my misfortune as much as I do. I have the worst taste and luck with guys. I never win anything (not even at my Post-Prom and trust me, everyone usually wins SOMETHING there) I trip in the most public places. I can make any moment awkward. I laugh at my own jokes. But you know what? All of these things are okay. The point today is that sometimes we all feel like we can never get it right, but the key to being happy is to just laugh it off. There are times where I wonder if I've hit my rock bottom, and then when I get the surprise that it can get lower, and I don't cry (usually), I laugh. I never think my life is truly bad, I think it is comically bad, and may sound weird, but it more than gets me through. It makes me happen. It humbles me, and allows me to stop feeling sorry for myself after a five minute sulk session and do what I need to do to get things right again. Don't ever give up on yourself, be your most loyal and best friend. Because if you haven't noticed, the best of friends are always laughing at the things you do, so why not try it yourself? That's it for now.

New Low.

It's late. And I'm confused.

Have you ever really liked the wrong person?

It seems like that if there is something wrong to do...I'll do it.

So, I met this guy. I didn't just meet him, and this isn't a new situation at all, but really, I have no idea what to do with myself at this point. I'm already to two questions and I'm about five lines into this thing but do you ever just know something in your heart? Yeah, it seems I have one of them after all. I'm gonna go into another story that is almost too parallel to how I am feeling right about now. Once upon a time, way back when, I was a thirteen year old girl who knew nothing. When I saw him for the first time though, I knew. With some time and something worthy of being called a miracle, he saw me too. It was a whirlwind. I had no idea how to describe the emotions I felt then. I  suppose I felt needed, wanted, and alive for the very first time, and it was breathtaking. When he kissed me, my very first kiss, I swear I saw stars for about three weeks straight, and I haven't felt like that since. But this little fairy tale of mine came at a huge price. The good times did not even come close to the bad ones. I held on to the littlest things for months to get me by when he decided I wasn't worth his time. He pushed me around, knew he had me wrapped around his finger, and used me. I'm sure if you asked him right now to describe what I was to him, it would be something close to nothing, maybe just a little crush. If you asked what he was to me? Ha. Well, put the pieces together, and you figure out what he meant to me, what I still would do for him, even though I have finally moved on. The whole point of writing this? Well, I'm in another dilemma. The missing piece of this puzzle is that the entire time I was involved with this guy, he was with someone else. It was his excuse to literally reduce me to a pawn. When I think of how pathetic I was, letting myself be just a form of entertainment when he was bored in his relationship, I cringe. I swore to myself when I let him go, so recently it is embarrassing, that I would never let anyone do that to me again. Well, what have I done? Put myself back at the beginning of that almost same exact road, because like I was saying at the beginning, I know it in my heart. Except what makes this worse is that something just feels right instead of all kinds of wrong. After successfully shutting myself out from this stuff for about two years, feeling it again makes my brain hurt. I've tried to tell myself not to like him for awhile, but I just can't. I think I'm too tired to give it up. I don't know anymore. I think I'll just move to Belarus or something and live an old, happy life milking goats and listening to a transistor radio where they do not play any type of Taylor Swift at all because she makes my head hurt too. I need help. That's it for now.

Something Good Can Work.

I have barely had time to breathe these past couple days.

I'm leaving, and I may not ever come back (who knows maybe I will).

So a few weeks ago, I was helping an old man out to his car. He could barely move, and even though this was true, it was easy to tell this guy still had a lot of life left in him. He kept saying, "Boy, if only I could get these old things to move faster!" I just smiled, because naturally, I had no idea what to say to that. As soon as I finished up with loading his groceries in his trunk, he asked if I would like to hear a story. Of course I said yes, since I figured why the hell not? It seemed like this guy loved to tell stories, and since I am quite a storyteller myself, I was more than willing to listen. He proceeded to tell me a riddle about an old woman who was receiving anonymous e-mails from a man whom she thought was her dead husband, while the man she was actually talking to thought he was sending them to his own wife. I laughed and told him how clever it was, and when I looked up at his face, he seemed genuinely happy that I actually spent about 2 minutes of my time just hearing his story. I couldn't help but think to myself that this is one of the reasons I love to live. How much do I take for granted? Wish for life to go on faster and faster? The truth of the matter is, I gave this old man joy from a simple gesture, and well, he gave me a realization. Cliches exist for a reason, and boy, am I living in one right now. Life is too short to be somewhere you don't want to be. You have to grasp it, and when you find something you love, you never let it go. That is the very reason why I decided to leave New York for now. I won't say whether or not I'll come back, because at this point, I have no idea. In fact, I have no idea where I want to end up. Even though there are aspects I'll miss, I'm ready. I know deep down inside that this is not where I belong right now, so why slaughter my precious time? It's a scary process, since I am completely on my own, but this is right. I want to be that old man one day, telling my stories to kids, and being happy enough to  find simple joy out of it. Hell, I even want to be okay with the fact that my legs don't move nearly as fast as they used to. Life is short. Go and get everything you want. You deserve it. That's it for now.

For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic.

A little bit of a different post today.

What I Talk About When I Talk About Love (Raymond Carver anybody?)

It sucks.

The first time I realized I might have been slightly defect in this field is when I started middle school. I was chubby, had frizzy hair, and wore glasses. By the time I hit eighth grade, I was just about a pile of skinny limbs with braces, and looking back, for some reason a middle part seemed to just show up on my hair (why? I have no clue. It was an accident I assure you). Going from one end of the awkward spectrum to the other didn't really serve me right during my preteen years, so I really didn't get along with most of the population. I even had the chance to be friends with the popular girls, but turned it down since I didn't like the way they acted (Who shoplifts at the Disney store? Or drinks vodka when their twelve?). After I passed up the girly girls, I decided to become friends with people who I actually liked. My friends back then made me laugh. We knew how to have a good time, despite getting looks from almost everyone. We were the weirdos, and you know what, for the first time in my life, I was okay with being a weirdo. What does this have to do with love? Well,   it almost created a cocktail for disaster. It made me completely comfortable on how I turned out, while being so insecure of how I looked. It was almost a contradiction, and I don't know why I'm talking in past tense, because I still feel pretty much the same exact way. I am the contradiction. I believe in true love, but can't seem to grasp the concept of trying. I act like a total dude most of the time, but then wonder why some guys can't see me in the other way. I joke around and flirt for fun, and wonder why I have ever creep in a five mile radius asking me out. I really make no sense, and I know where it comes from. Maybe I will never be able to rid myself of my quirky personality, that screws me over eleven times out of ten, but that is okay. You know what I can get rid of? Looking in a mirror, and seeing someone who is unlovable. This is incredibly sappy of me, but I know someone is out there for me. Someone who will erase all of the times I have been hurt, or felt like it couldn't be for someone like me. Maybe I know him, and we both just don't know it yet. Most likely I don't know him, and he is just another stranger right now. That is the beauty of this, because throughout all of my shit luck already, and all the shit luck I have yet to experience, I know it can and will happen. And for right now? I'm okay with just being my bad self, and getting my feet on the ground. All good things come to those who wait...Clarice. Sorry, I was watching Silence of the Lambs, and Hannibal Lector is arguably the best villain of all time. Keep that in mind everyone.

That's it for now.