My August in a nutshell

Turned 23 years old last weekend. Spent it in Michigan with family. Wonderful time, but man does my family drive me crazy!

Supposed to leave for New York City tomorrow for a girls’ trip. Have not packed. Spent night watching Inception instead because I saw Lawless last night and I needed some more Tom Hardy.

Incredibly tired. August marked the one year anniversary of my working two jobs. I have now spent a year working 50+ hours a week on average. Seriously, that should deserve a medal right there or something.

OK, must stop procrastinating and start packing!

Life in a nutshell

Unofficial is this Friday and I will be making a return trip to my alma mater to participate in the holiday of debauchery.

I go to Costa Rica in two weeks. Two weeks until I am golden brown again instead of this pasty Asian paleness.

April is coming up. Spring!

AND SO IS JERMAINE LAMARR COLE, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS J. COLE, ON APRIL 18. ;alsfja;lsdkfja;sldkfjs; No words to describe my excitement for that!!!

Good night.

Shouldn’t be allowed near open bar again

Last Saturday I went to the wedding of an old childhood friend. It was essentially the first wedding of my “generation” that I’d attended. And naturally there were waterworks and feelings of depression and lots of alcoholic-induced “I hate looooveeeee” declarations.

Yes, I was that single girl last Saturday, drinking her sorrows away at the bar. It was rather sad. Actually, if memory serves me right, the bartender was hitting on me a lot. He looked rather old (in his 30s, which may have been OK with me in the past unfortunately, but I’m totally done with that!) and had an accent. And I think I may have started the shenanigans, when I went up, already drunk, to order a sex on the beach (did I mention it was open bar?). The subsequent times I went to order drinks, he asked if I had a boyfriend, how old I was, if I would dance with him, etc. Blechh. I like attention and all, but not when they’re from creepy older European bartenders.

I remember crying at the wedding while the bride and groom did their first dance. I remember wistfully thinking, “I wish I could believe in love…I wish it exists out there for me…” a lot. I remember me repeating, “I wish I could get married someday.” Because in all honesty, I don’t believe it. It’s not meant for me. I don’t do relationships, I don’t do boyfriends, I don’t think any man will know how to respect me, yada yada. Don’t meant to sound like I’m begging for pity or something like that, but it’s the truth. I don’t see myself ending up in a real grown-up relationship any time soon and I’m done dealing with boys and their shit. I think I’m okay with being “alone” for a really really long time. Someday I’ll write down here why and who it is exactly I’m angry with (because of course, there’s always “someone” that makes one become this way). It’s just that it’s a really really unnecessarily long story.