I have become Bridget Jones

It has been two months and 11 days since I moved into this cute little studio apartment in Chicago’s Northwest Side all by myself. Yes, folks, I’m like a legit grown-up now. Crazy to think that a few months ago I was cramped in my little bedroom at my parents’ house, and now I have all this space to myself, it’s ridiculous. This morning I woke up at 7:15, rolled out of bed at 8, took out the garbage, made myself a huge breakfast omelette, drank some coffee courtesy of the Keurig my dad kindly passed down to me, and now I’m sitting here in the living room listening to the Ella Fitzgerald Pandora station and wondering what on earth to do with myself.

Because, alas, I’m also finding myself encountering all these emotions and scenarios that up until now had only existed in the books and movies for me. Like yesterday, when it was a certain person’s birthday and after coming to the conclusion that he did not want to see me on his birthday, I made myself a taco and chugged through three glasses of wine before passing out on my bed at 9:30 in the evening because the thought of spending a Friday night awake and alone while everyone in the world was out having fun was just too much to bear. Then, when I checked my phone this morning, I had 10+ messages from the certain person insisting that his phone was not working and asking me what I was doing. This was all after I had gone to sleep, of course, so as a result I woke up to Snapchats from him out and having fun with our friends. Now I’m just sitting here with back and neck pain in a sad pathetic misery.

OK. Enough wallowing. Must shower and get on with life.


Six years ago today, I bought my very own domain for the very first time. I set up a new blog. I had decided to “try out this WordPress thing” after manually making my own websites for years. I was a junior in college, busy doing things like socializing (or partying, as college students are wont to do) and trying to make it through classes. It’s funny when I think about those early days. My life was so different back then, and yet I still feel like I’ve only been at this for a couple of years.

Today, I am in the midst of packing up all my things and finally moving out of my parents’ house. Yes, that’s right. After four years of living the post-college life comfortably (and sometimes not-so-comfortably) ensconced in the company of my family, I’m finally getting out and living in the great city of Chicago. I don’t know if this is something that happened all of a sudden (because it sure feels like it, although I guess it’s been a few weeks now since I signed the lease) or something that I can proudly say is the culmination of hard work (because I wrote back in January in my journal that I would move out this year), but all that matters is I’ve made a move and am making progress in my life and finding new challenges to tackle head on (because I know this won’t be easy on my precious bank accounts).

I’ve got so many plans (I know, I know—I’m seriously a broken record) but to think that next week, one of my grand plans will finally be moving into action…it’s so amazingly satisfying and thrilling.

Look to hear more from me soon.

Just keep swimming, or so they say

Mixed emotions about things right now. Life is exciting, but at the same time it is kind of just barely afloat. An “exciting” thing is happening to me (or rather, my nonexistent love life), per the opinion of my girl friends, but I am feeling incredibly apprehensive about it I’m surprised I haven’t vomited my anxiety out yet.

The quarter-life crisis has waned a little since my moment of panic in May. But at the same time I think it’s just been abated due to the hectic craziness that is summer. After all, what is going to happen when all the kiddos go back to school and it’s too cold to be doing things outdoors? (Although, come to think of it, it’s been bloody cold [relatively speaking] all summer in Chicago, fuck you January polar vortex) I’m just going to have to re-face the reality that is my current twentysomething state: stuck in a job that I love but does not pay enough, stuck in a house with a family that I love but is driving me crazy, stuck in a town with people and things that I love and are familiar with but at the same time feeling jaded. Huh.

To make matters worse, my 25th birthday is coming up. That’s my golden birthday, mind you. I don’t know how to feel about it. I don’t like setting high expectations for things because ultimately in the end they are never reached, but at the same time I don’t want to be feeling so depressed on my golden birthday. I guess I’m just sad because I know this birthday won’t be like my last one. Maybe it’ll be fun (I’ve plans to go paintballing [!] and attending Chicago Comic Con [!!]) but it will most definitely not be the same because my last birthday was the only birthday I got to spend with a certain someone. And this year I will certainly feel the heavy weight of his absence from my life. Gahh.

Sometimes it’s just not meant to be

I have a bone to pick with you, J. Cole.

Two years ago, you did a college tour-type thing and performed at two venues relatively close to me. To one concert I was available to go and had friends to go with, but then alas the plan fell through. Then, inexplicably, one of those friends ended up going anyway (though not entirely her fault, sometimes still like to tease her about betrayal). Whatevs, I thought back then.

Last year, you did the Dollar and a Dream tour and came back to Chicago in June. My friend and her brother were able to secure spots in line at your secret venue, House of Blues, but because I was not physically with them at the time (having been stuck in Lincoln Park) I was unable to secure own wristband for entry. It was a traumatic day for me, to say the least (although entirety of trauma not your fault, was just mere cherry on top).

This year, I was determined to see you in concert more than ever. You were slated to come to Chicago on this day, July 21, and I even took the day off from work. But alas, the friend with whom I was to go to your Dollar and a Dream II concert with became quite ill and when spoke to her on phone this morning, she sounded rough. So again, I had to resign to the fact that I would yet again miss one of your performances.

Why, Jermaine, is fate torturing me in this manner? Am I never meant to see you perform in person, like, ever?

I’m so busy now, bullets will have to do

My life feels like a mess. Not a bad mess, but an actual, really disorganized mess. My room can’t stay neat for a day, I’ve got shit lying around and shit missing and as much as my OCD self wants to get that situation fixed, my new workaholic self keeps reminding me that I just don’t have the bloody time. And that’s because I spent the entire weekend being wild and social. My bank account took a hit, considering I went on quite the shopping spree Saturday and boozed it up several times with friends. I even managed to squeeze in time today for a nap and a movie, which the new me would never have ever done but the old me was just begging for some lazy time.

But alas, now I have to figure out my bills, get stuff situated, and all that good stuff.

  • The movie I mentioned previously was (500) Days of Summer. I borrowed it from the library and saw it for the very first time. I laughed, I cried, I experienced bouts of epiphany-like states. It was a seriously damn good movie. I didn’t know who I was in love with more, Joseph Gordon-Levitt or Zooey Deschanel. More importantly, I didn’t know who I related to more, Tom or Summer. The heartbreak that Tom went through was more or less similar to the heartbreak I experienced with Boy O. But the attitude Summer had is exactly the attitude about love I have right now. Except unlike Summer, who didn’t really have any expectations of love and had previous relationships that didn’t come close, I’m of the mindset that I’ve already experienced the horrible things called love and heartache and I just never want to have to deal with them again. Hmmmm…
  • I went to Medieval Times for perhaps the 4th time in the past 5 years. It was my 5th time overall. It was also my first time there as a legal drinking adult, which was interesting. The sad part, though, was that the knights didn’t come out after the show because there was another show to prepare for after, so I never got to take pictures with them. I also didn’t get to take pictures with the cute knight I’d seen twice before.
  • Friday night I went out to the bars in Wicker Park in Chicago. It was my first time at the bars in that area, and I must say, it was a blast. It’s totally more my scene than Lincoln Park (too college-y, which I know I should theoretically love but at the same time there’s also too many fratty white people for my taste) or downtown Naperville (where I’d been last night, way too many snobby rich suburban folk). And it’s definitely a neighborhood I would consider living in someday.
  • I have much more to say but my bedtime approaches and I need to get a good start to the week.