Stress.

I hate men. I have realized that they are the leading cause of half of my stress and unnecessary distraction, and have probably helped further my intense procrastination.

On that note, I will continue to read Jane Austen and continue my strong disdain for feminism and female Victorian authors.

Cheers.

Enlightenment.

This week has been a very stressful week for me academically, mentally, physically, and socially. There are a lot of awkward tensions between myself and a few friends that I, for the most part, see no real reason in being friends with now or in the future. Socially, that is only hindering my abilities to act like a real person when I am in the presence of such people, but for the most part I can easily avoid that by harsh, biting responses like, "My life is busy. If you can synch your schedule to mine, then we'll talk." I see this as my way of saying, if you cared about seeing me you would call me. But you don't. You just run into me on the street and approach me after class. Pick up the phone, or realize that I don't give a shit. You were never really that cognizant of your surroundings/other's emotions anyway.

Academically, it has been challenging, as I have mastered the art of procrastination, but while reading Dracula and working on a few papers, I finally became aware of the link between the liberal arts and recognized the significant tie between the different humanities that I have been studying while here at NYU. Dracula, the sensationalist novel of the 19th century, not only helps establish the horror genre but it ties into historical and pseudo-scientific themes of the time period. First, in case you didn't know, Dracula actually uses racial theory to illustrate the Count as "other." Brilliant. Racial theory, in case you also didn't know, is derived from Darwin's Natural Selection/Theory of Evolution, which Darwin would have been enraged over, but he was dead by that time so nothing he could do. Finally, it hit me. This is why my Totalitarian Thought class is hitting me so hard. Racial Theory and History are everywhere. I always knew that but this time it actually hit me. Not only that, while I struggled and questioned the importance in reading the Origins of Species and Descent of Man, yesterday I was able to connect all of these things to Dracula and Stoker's clever use of themes. I felt so proud of myself and also so much more confident in my decision to attend NYU, which has been something I have been grappling with since arriving here two years ago.

I suppose now I can rest knowing that whatever I do major in, it all ends up tying together at one point or another. Brilliant.

Take Back NYU.

Seriously, Take Back NYU? After your stunts and your dance parties, and your graffiti on the New York sidewalks, now you go and inconvenience the rest of NYU and make us look bad. I should acknowledge the fact that some of their demands were legitimate, but for the most part, all I can truly say about the participants in the occupation is that they are a bunch of whining brats. Yes, NYU is expensive, yes, we don't have budget transparency. If you want that, go to a state school. There are cheaper alternatives. You didn't need to come here. John Sexton himself has said he would be understanding to students who had to leave to go to a state school and would help them transfer back into NYU once their financial situations had improved.

The economy is hurting everyone. But you have a choice. Go to a different school and quit your bitching, or stay here. I know I shouldn't be paying for it either, and I complain about cost as well, but I wouldn't ever dare inconvenience my peers, the NYU staff, or the city as a whole, for my complaints. Not only that, you want tuition to go down - for your stunt NYU had to have more guards on call that day that most other days. Kimmel couldn't sell food, and therefore no profits were made. You singlehandedly contributed to the reasons why we have high tuition. Cheers.

For the rest of the world, don't judge the actions of a small group of students to be the actions of the entire student body. Most of us were in class.

And with that:
http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/02/20/students-end-nyu-building-takeover/

Trader Joe's.

I love Trader Joe's, but why do I love it? Sometimes I find this question difficult to answer myself, simply because I could love it for so many different reasons. First, shopping there can be such a cultural experience. So many different kinds of people shop there. I mean, there are little old ladies pushing granny carts, and little old men walking with them, there are men in suits who look as if they just got off the floor, there are students - presumably NYU students - struggling to budget themselves.

But here's what's missing: Children. Seriously. Anytime I've gone to Trader Joe's there are NEVER kids. No one is screaming at their mommies or daddies asking for god knows what for god knows why and everything is so peaceful.

Just goes to show you that in New York, no one really loves their children. They just love their nannies.

New York Mothers.

Honestly, what the fuck is wrong with you women? You push strollers in heels and pick up your children from their schools in fur coats and get angry when they spill their $5 yogurt shakes from Whole Foods all over them. Get over yourselves. You make your nannies, and the rare case after school babysitters, absolutely disgusted. Buy a pair of Adidas and some yoga pants and take a break from all the glamour and everything else that creates the stereotypical New York Mother.

Stop showing off your ridiculous wedding bands when its -10 degrees. Wear gloves. Practicality over fashionality, as I always say.

God save the children of New York.

They just don't get any better than this.

"I know women are crazy. You, however, have reached a new level of crazy called insane and fickle."

Oh my.

HITTIN' THE BOOKS, SUCKAS.

I try not to publicize this blog so often but I feel like perhaps I should. This is my "Plz can I haz home now?" face. I am so ready to go home.

Finals are going to be the death of me.
I have to pack and move.
I am way in over my head with everything.

This weekend was pretty bizarre. Went to the PB Holiday Party which was super awkward and super weird in some girl's random warehouse-turned-apartment. I've come to the realization that there is just no reason to live like that. I mean seriously. You live in an awkwardly designed apartment with makeshift bedrooms. I know we all do what we can, but my parents would never pay for that shit. Never.

Went to a Moving Mountains show at Death By Audio. Again, let me reiterate my extreme disdain for Warehouses turned into anything other than Warehouses. This place had the strangest ambiance I've ever felt in a room, and the extreme pretension that resonated within its walls was startling. I thought I missed local shows. The bands were alright but really, I don't know how I dealt with any of that as a kid. I guess it was more of the friend aspect. Saw Stephen, Liz, A-Kane, and natch, the boys of MM. It was a good time with old friends, and a good break from the people I see all the time at NYU. Certainly not something I would feel the need to do every day, or every weekend for that matter.

I feel very frustrated within my circle of friends and I think that that is probably just because I am going to move in with my best friend out of any of them, and that has me nervous only because I feel like I'm ostracizing myself from everyone else. I also miss Adrienne more than the world can ever know, and it hurts me that she had to choose the sorority over me, but I know that it is a better environment for her. I just wish everything could have worked out differently.

I haven't had a cigarette in 10 days. A+ for that. I'm really into this Israeli and it's killing me. I don't like thinking about someone else so much. I guess I secretly do want to stay single, even though I bitch about my dates and etc. so frequently. Who knows. He could be a nice change of pace.

I can't wait to go home. I miss my babies.

Frustrated.

When I said don't fuck with me, I meant it.
Who the fuck takes over 12 hours to respond to a message?

You're lucky you're foreign.



You are so lucky.
Now go back to the land of milk and honey.

Quit, bitch.

I'm trying to quit smoking again.
Today is day 7.
Today is day "I cannot understand why I ever started smoking in the first place and why no one stopped me and Jesus Christ, what am I supposed to do if I can't quit?"

Today I ran for 10 minutes and barely got anywhere. This shit better work.

Decisions, Decisions.

I think I'll be an English major. Yes? Yes. Yes? Maybe...

I decided I want to get my Ph.D. in English Literature, so that I can teach books for the rest of my life and essentially be Karen Karbiener. Who is this woman, you ask? Well. She is my idol down to her skinny black boots and her sleeveless shell dresses. I think life would be pretty fantastic if I ended up like her.

Brit Lit and Lit Int here I come!

Bliss.

I'm so excited but so scared at the same time.
How do I tell her I'm leaving?
How do I tell her it's not her fault but kind of is her fault but that even if she tried harder it wouldn't have changed a thing?

The truth is, I never wanted to like her. I just felt like I needed to, and I'm not used to someone not naturally becoming a friend when they are in such close proximity.

I shouldn't be so concerned.

Bridges.

Obviously, I've always known that Manhattan is an island, but when you're in the heart of it, you forget so easily that it's surrounded by water and these fantastic, gorgeous bridges that you only see if you're on either the coast, or like me, at the tip.

On the bus ride to school, which sounds ridiculous because in college you shouldn't need a bus, I see three bridges. From my apartment window, I see my favorite bridge in all of the United States, possibly the world, but I'll know that better once I go to Prague.

It's cliché to think like this, but I find bridges to be so powerfully beautiful, so magnificent. The idea behind a bridge is equally clichéd, simply because most people use the phrase "burning bridges." Why burn a bridge? They're wonderful. You'll never get across otherwise. There's no reason to forget everything. Because if you don't look at that bridge, you'll never remember where you were before.

Warehouses

I don't know who decided to start having massive ragers in warehouses, but whoever it was must have been a pretty cool guy. We start the night by an overwhelming concern of being lost in an area of Brooklyn where most of us have never been. For a bit, things look pretty nice, like a little bit of the suburbs more closely built up, and the hideous presence of the BQE. We end up in what seems to have been a previously industrialized area that has died down since industry has pretty much vacated the five boroughs. Obviously we know the way.

Enter stage two, dancing on a stage after a couple beers and after having several more, someone ends up on a table. Running into people I know via 6 degrees of separation, I am slowly finding myself overwhelmingly intoxicated, knowing in the back of my head it will soon be time to leave. Dancing, feeling good about the current situation and the people I'm with, I see Paulie Bleecker. We kiss and he tells me his name is Ricky - a "pre-med student like everyone else living on the coolest floor in Lafayette" - but that I can call him Michael. As in Michael Cera. As in, if I were sober, I would have laughed and walked away, but being drunk and thinking this guy actually looks like Michael Cera, I go with it.

I woke up still drunk and somehow managed to make bracelets for four hours with 5 year olds. I amaze myself.

At least I stayed sober for the better half of yesterday.

Photographs

It's still so wild to me that so much time has passed. I looked at some old photos from two summers ago and it's hard to believe that I am here, a sophomore in college, trying to figure out my major and what I am going to do with the rest of my life. That summer holds so many of my favorite memories. I look at old photos of me, Ava, and Valerie, and my heart just swells and it's such a beautiful emotion I can hardly describe it. My babies.

I can't believe it's almost Halloween. It was just September. I can't believe I voted. I can't believe that this time next year, if all goes as planned, I will be living in Europe. I don't know what will happen when I graduate and leave Alexis, Kyle, Chris, or Amanda. I don't even want to go home for Christmas.

Growing up is getting harder. Can't I go back to last year?

Drunk?

I always surprise myself when I'm drunk. This time was a real kicker. Walking towards the Bedford Ave station in Brooklyn, going to a party I had no business going to, going to an apartment I really didn't need to go to - except for the possibility of coke, which I didn't really want anyway - I make a phone call that I still can't determine to be wise or not. I am unsure of why I called Cory in my drunken stupor in the process of getting onto the subway. I invite him over.

"You're a coward and a fluzy. I wonder how straight your spine really is. Call me when you're ready to pull your shit together." He shows up, tells me I'm not date-able, but that my motivation and hard working skills are extremely sexy. Hi, I'm an extremely unmotivated, crazed out of my face, 22 year old still getting a B.A., and that means I'm interested in girls who work hard and are essentially the "antithesis" of myself. You have to be joking me.

Something about Cory always proves to be so overwhelmingly sincere that I can't help but open my door to him and let him lay next to me. After he calls me spineless a few more times and I tell him he's pathetic, he asks me the last time I got laid. I describe everything for him and he's in shock. In shock at how pathetic my sex life is and was and how pathetic I am for not allowing myself to have a sex life for fear that sex will never be enjoyable ever again. But I'm a respectable girl, which makes me more attractive, so he wouldn't pressure me. So I went to sleep.

We'll see if I get any more calls after that.

I'm jealous about Kyle's sexcapades. That's not a good sign.

My dreams are really out of control.

This is ridiculous. For months you haunted my dreams, and then it stopped for months, now it starts again, and now I'm dreaming about him and you and this is all too strange, too bizarre.

As Amanda put it: "You're dreaming about two things that comfort you, or one that comforted you in the past and now is being replaced by the other."

But, I really don't want to think about him like that. It's not fair. No more.

I've been feeling inspired lately. I think I might start carrying my notebook again and write. I still want to be the Poet Laureate.

Right.

Anorexia.

What gives? How do you fucking people do it?

French Toast.

Kyle likes to tell me I look domesticated. I am trying to learn to cook, clean, bake, etc. so that one day, I can be a trophy wife on the Upper East Side. I'm not kidding. I'll find my future husband one of these days while running in the financial district.

Mary Kate.

We have known each other for nearly 12 years, and sometimes I wonder just how much of our friendship is because we actually have things in common and how much of it is because of longevity.

I adore Mary Kate and love her with a very sisterly love. However, I still know the jealousies I've had of her my entire life and continue to have to this day. She is so much freer than I am, than I'll ever be for that matter, and I envy her for this. I envy her for her supportive parents and for all of the things she's been able to do in life because of financial privilege.

Recently her boyfriend of two/three years broke up with her. I can say honestly that one truly beautiful thing came out of my break up with Charlie: I am able to sympathize and offer really genuine support for Mary Kate in her given situation. I told her to get back to Mary Kate, to get back to who she is and remember that she is not Mary Kate plus one, but that she is independent, etc. Pretty much, all of those things you need to hear when you've been dumped but not everyone gets to hear. Sometimes I get jealous of all of my friends because I'm able to give them some sort of hope for their hard break ups, when in truth, no one could really give me anything last August. I'm glad I had to do it alone. Hearing how distraught she was over Alec reminded me of myself and proved to me just how different Mary Kate and I really are. She's a party girl, all about the "moment" and going with the flow. I don't know when or how it happened, but I am so conservative in my behavior that I find it slightly overwhelming and at times, nauseating.

I suppose I'm jealous of Mary Kate mainly because she has me. And I don't have too many friends that would be brave enough as I am to stick up to someone and tell them the truth. Too many people walk on eggshells around me. I don't understand it. She told me that for the past year or so, she's only had me and Alec, but I'm usually busy, etc. That was really painful to hear. I never just had Charlie or Mary Kate. I always had other options. Charlie was usually the option I chose, but I never forgot that I had others there. It breaks my heart to think that someone could ever just have two people. That's not the kind of life anyone should ever have to lead.

I think it's time I found someone and stopped playing therapist and giving others advice when I don't have my own life to live.