My life right now in five bullet points

Lists are fucking everywhere these days. Buzzfeed, Huffington Post, everywhere. They’re getting quite annoying. And headlines these days! Everything’s gotta be composed of “10 Things That Will Blow Your Mind” or something similar. I’m over it, people. Please stop posting them all over my News Feed.

Anyway, to be a complete hypocrite I’m going to compose a list of my own here. Pardon me.

  • I have no money. It’s really starting to feel like it. I don’t know how this came about. I blame my family, I blame the world, I blame myself. Bills, loans, car payments, etc. Believe me when I say I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten most of my spending under control. I don’t shop anymore. I try limiting my expenditures when I go out, ever since I blew $120 in one night at American Junkie. But alas I still feel like I’m drowning.
  • I’m getting quite obsessed with Iggy Azalea. I don’t know why she fascinates me so much. Maybe it’s the Australian thing. Her voice can get a little annoying, but I love the way she says “I hate you so much” on “Black Widow.”
  • I’m rereading Bridget Jones’s Diary for the umpteenth time, just because. One of my co-workers teasingly joked that women only read it when they’re depressed though. Huh.
  • But I’m not bored. A couple of months ago I felt like my life was in despair, empty and hollow. Now I’ve replaced it with alcohol and random shenanigans with people. Because of that, I haven’t been able to work on my list of “Life Things to Work On” (a list name I just came up with right now). Kind of feeling in despair over that, but at least I’m having fun. Over the next week I have the following: overdue reunion with my old college roommate who’s just returned from Israel, girls night out planned for in the city on Saturday, HOPEFULLY seeing J. Cole on Monday for his Dollar and a Dream 2014 tour (for ya’ll who don’t know, they’re $1 shows at an undisclosed location, first come first served…so gonna have to get with it on Monday!), actually seeing Beyoncé and Jay Z (meaning I’ve got tickets) at Soldier Field next Thursday, and then flying off to Baltimore to visit my other old college roommate. WHEW.
  • Too lazy to come up with a fifth bullet point. I’m done.

Good night.

I’m finding things to do

So I think I almost have my groove back. Friday night I went out in the city with friends. Ended up not getting home until six in the morning. Legit showed up to work at my retail job in the same tights and skirt I was wearing the night before. People were commenting on how nice I looked, and inside I just felt gross and hungover. I felt young again! Figuratively speaking, of course.

In other news, the first two weeks of the NBA regular season has been cancelled. Now, people keep pointing out to me that this doesn’t necessarily mean it’s all over, but I’m pretty sure at this point the entire season is kaput. And I know it sounds silly and trivial to you people who don’t watch sports or care or whatever, but I am literally sobbing inside. I have no idea what I’m going to do without the NBA for a whole year. And I can’t bring myself to give two shits about NFL football. I really can’t. I mean, I watch the games occasionally and read the headlines on and all…but as much as I try, I just don’t really care. Nothing excites me and gets to me the same way basketball does.

Lately I’ve been reading the Southern Vampire Mysteries, which is the book series True Blood is based on. I don’t know whether to say it is better or not than the show. The writing is 50/50—there’s a lot of cute funny quotes, but sometimes the pop culture references and mundane details annoy me. Charlaine Harris sure knows how to write those male characters though. Eric, Alcide…I don’t know which I’d rather do. And how the hell is it that Sookie has like 10 times more suitors in the books than in the series? Woman’s got men knocking down her door every minute! I wish my life was as exciting. Minus the blood and vampire part.

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.

The male species can suck it

I didn’t like Lil Wayne much before, but I’m definitely one of those girls who swears this song was written about them. It’s like every word is dripping with all the pathetic tales of my sad love life. Until last weekend, I thought I was just always running into bad luck when it came to boys. Now, I’m pretty sure I’m fucking cursed.

Last Friday, as I mentioned, I went clubbing with a friend. At this club, my friend had invited her new boy toy, who of course had in turn brought along his friends. Only two of those friends are relevant: K, a white boy who had expressed interest in me to his friend and my friend; and B, an Hispanic boy who I didn’t care much for at first, but when K turned out to be a dud I ended up telling everyone B was more my type and somehow people thought that meant I wanted B instead (which, okay, was true, but totally not what I had told my friend).

At any rate, at the end of the night I was somehow delegated the task of driving everyone (me, my friend, her boy toy and his friends) home. I ended up dropping K and B off at K’s house, where I assumed they were gonna go smoke up. K didn’t bother to say good-bye to me (nor thank you, wtf!), which I guess is because I’d basically rejected him. B asked for my number, asked what I was doing the next day, gave me a hug several times, and actually ended up giving me a kiss.

Now, fast forward to yesterday. My friend and I happen to work together now (at the retail job I’d gotten last month), and when she told me her boy toy was coming to the mall to visit, I of course asked if he would be bringing any friends with him. She raised her eyebrows and was like, “You want to see B again don’t you?” “Duh.” “I think he has a girlfriend.” … “WHAT?!”

Apparently, my friend had asked B on Friday at the club if he had a girlfriend, and he responded, after hesitating, with an affirmative, and her new boy toy even drunkenly semi-confirmed it (I don’t know why these boys can’t just fucking come right out and say it). Now, I really don’t care what happens at this point between B and I, but this just absolutely, positively confirms the fact that I am fucking cursed. I am always, always the other bloody woman. (Remember the married Costa Rican DJ?)

I am never ever the girl in chick flicks who ends up with the boy of her dreams at the end! I am never the nice girl who gets left out in the cold because nobody thinks she’s cute enough! I am just the slutty ho men want to play around with because they think that’s all she’s good for! And no, I am not purposely going around acting like a slutty ho, I’m really trying to portray myself as a classy-yet-badass-y kind of girl. What the fuck!!

Here is the count:

  • Number of boys I’ve dealt with who turned out to have girlfriends at the time: approximately 3 (that I know of for sure…I’m pretty sure there’s more I’ve forgotten)
  • Number of married men I’ve dealt with: technically 1, 2 really, and there’s a third I don’t know whether to count or not
  • Number of boys who ended up finding girlfriends after me: 3 (again, I stress that these are estimates)
  • Number of times I got fucked over in the end, and not in the good way: infinite

Let’s keep in mind that these are all individuals that I’ve managed to remember in my head. The actual numbers may, I fear, be higher.

Viva la vida

A couple weeks ago I was accepted as a contestant for the Miss Illinois USA pageant. Now, the question is…do I do it or not? The consensus so far has been a unanimous yes and the adventurous part of me is screaming “DO IT!”, but the sensible me keeps reminding me that A) I’m super busy now with my 55-hour work schedule, and B) Shit’s expensive. You gotta come up with more than $1000 in sponsorship money, plus provide your own wardrobe. My brothers also like to point out that I’m so not a girly girl, and would probably implode after being surrounded by a gaggle of girls for an entire weekend. I have to make a decision soon, though. Registration deadline’s coming up.

In other news, my life appears to have settled into a routine at last. After years of shuffling around, hanging out with different circles and basically not giving a shit about anything except having fun, my life has become work-work-work-rest-work-drink. So is this what they mean by adult life? I guess I could get used to this. I kind of feel more respected now that I’m a college graduate and finally working. I also definitely understand more now why people feel the need to party on the weekends. Last Friday, after working the entire day at my two different jobs, my friend called me up and basically said to get ready because we were going clubbing. Tired as I was, the idea of knocking back a few beers and dancing my ass off was just simply way too enticing. And that was what we did. It was therapeutic, really.

Today is also the tenth anniversary of the events of September 11, 2001. Ten years ago I was a 7th grader sitting in history class when the principal came in to tell our teacher the shocking news. Amazing how much our society, and the world, really, has changed since then. I wish I had more patriotic things to say, but seeing as how I am so not patriotic at all, I guess I only want to repeat one of the many inspiring phrases floating around today: It’s not how many times you fall that matters, it’s how many times you get back up.