Answers to the question "What are you doing New Years, New Year's Eve?"

• Going to the same family friend's house I go to every year, where I will eat mostly desserts off of paper plates.
• Playing numerous card and/or board games, all of which I will neither win nor lose, but land somewhere in the middle.
• Making forced small talk with people 3 times my age, topics ranging from school to my current relationship status.
• Tweeting.
• Texting. A lot. Specifially, my long distance boyfriend who is currently in PA. He tried to bribe me with a cat video for dirty pictures earlier. I didn't give in. 
• Leaving aforementioned family friend's house no later than 11, when everyone's eyes start drooping.
• Going to sleep.

New Year's Resolutions

Are kind of a joke--let's be honest here. But I do believe that the end of the year is a good time to reflect on all that you have accomplished, and what you would like to change. Reflecting on my reflection of last year, I didn't really have any kind of reflection. The one thing that does stick out in my mind, however, was how unhappy I was. I think, unconsciously, I made resolutions to start being happy. I was also really, really unhappy with my body, and all of the weight I had gained (freshman 20, anybody?). When my mom took portraits of us at Christmas, I distinctly remember not being able to look at the pictures of myself because I was so unhappy. Evidence is below.

The interesting thing is that I didn't start losing a significant amount of weight until the school year started--that's when I made the choice to start being happy again. And here I am, a year later. I have lost all of that weight. I am happy again. And of course, a lot of other aspects of my life have lined up as well also, but I think those top the list. 

Happy New Year! I hope it finds you well and happy. 

I sincerely apologize for not updating more. The truth of the matter is, I've run out of profound things to say. Like I ever had profound things to say in the first place, but I think that's the point.

I started keeping up this blog last year at this time because I was going through some rough times. It was a coping mechanism that turned out to work quite well. The very foundations of where I had placed my faith were being shook--things that I thought were guaranteed, weren't anymore. And because something I had believed to be concrete and stable went awry, and I began to question everything in my life. If my thoughts on this (which I had held for a long time) were wrong (or being doubted) then how did I know that the other things I believed true were right? When my introspective confidants had disappeared (for whatever reason), this blog took their place.

Which explains why I haven't written something of significance in a long time. The need for that reflective process is gone. I'm kind of sad about it, but kind of not. I mean, time goes by, things change, and there's absolutely nothing I can do to stop it. As the past year has shown me (more than any), people come and go, things will change, but time continues.


So I mean, I'm alive, but that's pretty much all you need to know.

True Story

Haha, I never blog anymore.

Words of wisdom, from Kat George.

This was one of the most beautiful things I've ever read.

The light at the end of the tunnel is there!

I can finally see it.

I was worried, but it's definitely there now. Rehearsal went infinitely better tonight than it did the night before.

It's kind of weird, how pretending (basically) can ruin my entire day, and the whole day after. As Cyd said today-- "Acting is hard! People really don't give it the credit it deserves. It's actually really, really difficult." Why yes, Cyd, yes it is.



Phew. That was scary. But I'm back now! Promise.

In a Funk

Guys, after rehearsal yesterday I was so drained.

I can't even adequately explain how I felt. Hollis was in my grill. I understood what she was telling me and the kind of reaction she was trying to get, but I couldn't translate it to my character, or the scene. Of course, the irony there is that April doesn't like to "go" there either--she is, after all, fighting to stay invulnerable, and I like to do that too. I'd rather play her from afar, and not get so into it that I burst into tears.

And it wasn't even worth it, because when we ran the scene after the whole ordeal it wasn't nearly as explosive.

After I start crying I just can't stop. (At least when the cause for tears is so ambiguous, like it was last night). I was on edge for the rest of the night. And then, when Hollis told us she couldn't do anything more with us because our lines were so horrible, I just couldn't hold it in. I knew her comment wasn't directed at me but I couldn't help it. I felt like I had let her down. She had just spent all of this time with me to get this scene perfect, but I couldn't even carry the changes through. Try as she might, she couldn't break through to me. And even after she did, and I started crying and yelling, I just built up the wall between April and me even higher.

I'm just at such a loss right now. I can cheer up for a little bit, I can start feeling less stressed, but in the end, I go back to feeling like this. I feel like April is slipping through my fingers. Like when you grab jello, and the harder you grab, the more it keeps slipping. I feel powerless.

I'm really over the show at this point. I feel like I could walk away and not have any feelings of remorse. I know this feeling is temporary, but it's really hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel at this point.



I've lost my connection, and I need to get it back--I just don't know where to find it, or where to even start looking.

How to get back together with your ex

First: Date for 2 years. Then: Go to different schools. On opposite sides of the country. Decide that instead of pining and being depressed all the time, you're going to have fun. Break up with your best friend. Be too much of a coward to do it to his face, so tell him you "need to talk" over Facebook chat. Tell him you don't want it to be bitter. Be annoyed when the comments on his changed relationship status make you look like a heartless bitch.

Go out that same night. Revel in your newfound freedom. For the first time in two years you can (almost) guiltlessly check out guys. Two years! Feel weird answering "No" to the question "Do you have a boyfriend?". Accidentally say yes to a woman at work, and then correct yourself, explaining "I just got so used to saying yes..."

Have your first fling that doesn't end bitterly. Feel mature.

Have a fling that ends bitterly, and not on your own terms. Feel mad at the fact that for once, someone isn't totally in love with you. Wonder if that was why you were interested. Talk about nothing else for a month.

Ruin your relationship with your significant parent. Fight over everything, but mostly why you broke up with your boyfriend. They won't understand, but more importantly, don't understand it yourself. Miss how things used to be so perfect. Wonder if you're glamorizing it. Decide that you are, and tell people "It's hard not to romanticize our relationship... I really only remember the good things."

Have all encounters with your ex be bitter. Allow yourself to be a bitch. Say things you don't mean, things that are meant to hurt his feelings. Feel bad about it afterwards, but not enough to apologize (and hurt your pride).

Hang out with him and a mutual group of friends over Christmas break. Try to ignore the way your stomach drops when you see him for the first time. Be unable to ignore it as tears pop into your eyes.

Miss the stability of having a boyfriend.

Ignore each other for the remainder of the school year.

Calm down after about 8 months of officially being "broken up". Your relationship with your significant parent has been mostly repaired. Invite your ex to a family event (after all, your family still loves him). You can peacefully coexist now, you realize.

Invite him to dinner, 2 months later, when he gets back from visiting the other side of his family.

Be surprised (or don't) at how things can be exactly the way they were before you broke up. Think about how weird it is that you do the exact same things, but in a completely different context.

Hug him a little bit too long. Hate that you can't kiss him. Cry about it a little bit. Kinda feel like your heart is breaking.

Consider the idea of getting back together. Talk to your drunk sibling about it. They're right.

Talk to your significant parent about getting back together with him. They're so happy they cry a little bit. They're not just happy because this is what they always wanted, they're happy because now you're doing it because you want it.

Tell him over pancakes that you're playing with the idea of getting back together. Love the look of disbelief on his face. Tell him that you have nothing to lose, that you might as well give it a chance. Understand his hesitation, and start crying a little bit, because if he doesn't take you back, you don't want anyone else.

But if you were him you probably wouldn't take you back either.

Love the way he catches your waist on the way out of the restaurant. Love that he pays for your pancakes too, even though he didn't eat any.

Be so happy that you cry.

You cry a lot. Not because you miss him (long distance is never easy), but because you can't believe he's yours. It took you this long, but you finally see what's right in front of you. And cry about missing him. But not as often as you thought you would.

Typcasting

It's kind of ridiculous how much we actually resemble our characters in The Hot L. We did a character development this week, and I didn't even feel like I was developing a character -- I felt like I was talking to Hollis about how I am. Or at least, used to be. April is, in essence, the character who tries to care the least. She constantly pokes fun at everyone else with a slightly cynical eye, and her snarky sense of humor embraces that. She spends the whole play fighting to stay invulnerable, which I tried to do for so long. It was only after I got my heart broken, broke a couple (or 5) of my own, and got mine broken again that I was able to just stop pretending not to care anymore. April of course, being in the field of work that she is (the world's oldest profession) doesn't have the same luxury that I do, someone that loves her unconditionally. The hotel is her home, and her family. She shows that love by caring about them in her own special way, by play-mocking and offering unsolicited advice (much like I do). I love April though, and there is a part of her in me. Maybe minus the hooker part, April is the girl I want to grow up to be.

In short: Come see the show. I'm playing myself in short shorts and hooker boots.

It has occurred to me that this is what love is.

I know that every moment of every day, my thoughts revolve around him. I know that when I am lying in bed (alone) at night, none of my worldly possessions around me matter, at all. I know I would leave them all in a heartbeat if it meant I could spend all my time with him, because when we’re together I don’t need anything but him. I know that every time I leave him, my heart breaks a little and I immediately start counting down the weeks, days, hours, minutes, until he can hold me again. I know that every single guy I’ve met since him has paled in comparison, in one way or another. I know that as long as I have tried to hide it, and as long as I did hide it, it feels good to just feel again. I know now that I hated hating him, but it was what I had to do to deal with the hole it left in my heart. I know that as hard as long distance is, it’s worth it if it means I get to hug him for as long as I want when I see him. I know that as hard as it is with only skype dates and texting to get us through, it’s better than being alone. I know that no matter what, I have someone that I can count on, someone who is always on my side. I know that no matter what I have a best friend, and someone to keep me company. I know that I don’t want anyone else — not now, and not ever. I know that he is the only one that has ever had my heart, and I know that he knows that. I also know that he would never do anything to hurt me. Because he loves me too.

Homesick.

"I just miss the way things used to be. I miss having a steady boyfriend, I miss being able to tell my mom stuff, and I miss my dog.

I hate looking at my walls lately, because all they do is remind me of what I wish I could go back to. And I hate looking at Facebook, because I see how much fun Ryan is having, and I wish I could be there sharing that with him."

- "I Love My Mom" 1/23/11

I miss a lot of people, and a lot of things right now that I can't really get. The funny thing is, all of the things I have listed above here, I still miss. I can tell my mom things now, which is great and awesome, and I'm going to keep it that way, but she's in Boise. I have my steady boyfriend back, and things are basically the way they used to be, but we're long distance. I still hate looking at my walls, because they just remind me what I'm missing out on, and I hate looking at Facebook because I still wish I was in Moscow with all my friends. Sometimes I regret choosing to come to Caldwell -- but the fact is that I've made too many connections here, and I have too many friends here to leave. Maybe if they all turned on me, started hating me, it would be different. I almost wish for that to happen, because then I would have an excuse to leave.

But, this is the choice I made. Sometimes I'm happy about it, sometimes I'm not. But I have to live with it. I have to make the best of it. And even though I doubt it, I know I ended up here for a reason. In the end, I have to do what makes me happiest (again, I remember those exact words coming out of my mouth, but holding an entirely different meaning a year ago), and I have to remember that happiness is a choice.

I am happy.

Hello, sophomore year.

This year is going to be a good one -- I can feel it.

Let's start with a list to get you updated.

1. I moved into my double in Voorhees.
2. I went to Judicial Board training.
3. I moved out of my double in Voorhees and into a single in Anderson (thank god).
4. I auditioned for The Hot L Baltimore and got the part of April Green (who is SO CLEARLY a prostitute -- this should be fun)
5. I'm actually on top of my homeowork this year?
   

I literally cannot put in words how stoked I am right now.

Also:

Yep. :)

So happy.

This.

Endless Summer (?)

Hey kids! I know it's been a while since I've posted something without meaning, but I have a lot of opinions, okay? I like to pretend that people on the internet care about what happens in my life, so I try to keep them updated.

First things first: I bought a ukulele! (I don't think I've mentioned this...) I got it at the beginning of July and I've just started to get the hang of it. (I can now tune it with little to no problem!). For those of you interested, Rahul taught me how to play the beginning of Stairway To Heaven last Spring, and I have taught myself Feelin' Groovy by Simon & Garfunkel (no surprises there). However, I'm still retarded at singing and playing at the same time. Practice makes perfect! Rahul and my's roommates will be having sex 24/7, so I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to jam together.

In other news, I've made a big step in my love life. I'm not going to divulge details but I will link to here, which should explain it pretty well for those of you who know me personally. The road to Moscow should be a pretty well traveled path for me by the end of the year.

I go back to school in a week and a half (11 days!) and it can't come soon enough. The only thing I'm not looking forward to is leaving my ridiculously big and comfortable bed here and packing up all my shit for college. Don't get me wrong, I like summer, but I need to feel productive. Working is one thing, school is another. I'm looking forward to the fall show, my classes, and being able to see my friends again. It will be grand. Oh! And Facebook Stalking 101 will be published in C of I's newspaper, the Coyote. :D

Ta ta for now, fictitious readers!

Fulfilling My Civic Duty

Well, it happened -- I got called for jury duty. (We Goldy's seem to be called a lot, we must be fair and unbiased in the state's opinion). I would have loved to serve (or even be asked questions) but unfortunately I was 3 people short of being questioned. So close, yet so far away. It was a child abuse case too, which would have been interesting to hear. But, eh.

In other news, I've painted my room (goodbye, orange!) and it is now 2 calming shades of blue. We also just got a new puppy who can be sweet but mostly just chews on people.

Introducing: Ruby, "The Newbie"

And, I bought this 80's inspired dress today from Forever 21 and it makes my ass look fantastic.

Can't wait.

20 more days till school starts!

Follow up of 'A Review of TC Writers: Top Contributors Ed.'

As you may (or probably not) have noticed, my post about TC writers got a little heat in the internet world. It was linked to (thanks, Steph!) and commented on (6 times!), not to mention the whopping 63 pageviews it got.

How he found my blog is beyond me, but Tao Lin himself commented on it, asking "what about megan boyle, tao lin and jimmy chen" (word for word, I swear. Sans punctuation and everything). I preferred not to respond to this comment, figuring it was a one-time thing, and nothing would come of it. However, a little over 12 hours later, an anon commented with a little snippier tone: "megan boyle, tao lin, and jimmy chen are among the most substantive authors TC publishes...your lack of notice/regard for their presence is telling" Well, so is your tone, I commented.

I didn't think anything of this little fiasco, other than an internet tiff that was remotely exciting. Then, tonight I was doing a little tweet-stalking (is that a thing?) and found Brandon Scott Gorrell's Twitter. How interesting, I thought (ironically), he's just as boring on Twitter. He did link to an article about Tao Lin & Friends (including himself) which I took the time to read -- and it finally all made sense. Tao Lin was butt hurt about not being mentioned!

I quickly realized while reading this article that Tao Lin has published 3 books, mostly out of his own pocket. Suddenly, I understood why he was so mad that I didn't review him -- he's an actual, published writer, and I didn't even mention him! Suddenly, the term "substantive" makes sense in that comment! Oh anon, you are correct! They are some of the most substantive writers! TC should be happy to publish them!

However, the article explains the kind of writing Lin has published (that being, a kind of glorified, gchat poetry). They provided a sample, and I must say, I was not a fan. But it occurred to me that if TC had published this, I would have remembered. In fact, when those comments were posted, I was driven to look at the articles that Tao Lin had written -- why didn't I review him? But I didn't remember any bad poetry. So why didn't I review him? The first answer was obvious, he only had 25 published articles (Top Contributors Ed, anyone?), but more importantly, they were boxed TC articles. No human element here, just some tips for being considerate on the internet and other random articles with no pattern to follow. Most importantly: I didn't feel like I knew him after reading them. I reviewed people with personality, because, let's face it, it wasn't an actual review of people's writing. It was just another excuse to flaunt my love for Thought Catalog and their writers.

But back to my anon comment (maybe I'll turn those off?) "megan boyle, tao lin, and jimmy chen are among the most substantive authors TC publishes...your lack of notice/regard for their presence is telling" Well, anon, I agree. My lack of notice and regard for their presence is telling. It tells that I am obvii not internet literate, otherwise I would have known who the fuck Tao Lin is and how important TC is to have his published writing on it. That being said, I'm completely okay with being a couple years behind in the internet world -- no need to cause a stir in something that I can just log out of at the end of the day.

The moral of the story is: just because a bored 19-year-old girl writes a blog post that leaves you out doesn't mean she's doing it on purpose, it just means she's internet illiterate.

P.S. Tao Lin, if you read this, I think your Thought Catalog articles are fine.

*facepalm*

The setting is dinner with my parents, Cheerleader's Bar & Grill (cheaper, less hot version of Hooters).

Me: So I had an interesting Day On The Internet.

M&D: Oh really?

Me: Yeah. The blog post I wrote about Thought Catalog writers got a little heat.

(goes on to continue story about comments, being linked to, etc)

Dad: So I guess I'm missing something here...what is a "Thought Catalog Writer"?

This article is perfect in all the right ways.

What You Are To Me - Chelsea Fagan

"You are laughing, laughing so hard I can’t see through my tears, laughing so hard I need to sit down for a moment. You are the happy ache in my side from laughter that comes in gales and waves and only gets worse as you try to stop it. You are that moment when I’m being held down and tickled and legitimately wondering if anyone has ever died from being tickled too hard. You are the cries of “Stop it!” that can barely be understood through the squeals of open laughter."

A Review of Thought Catalog Writers: Top Contributors Ed.

Ryan O'Connell (Ryan Ohh): Flaming, lovable, understanding. Better at describing your feelings than you are. You will have trouble finding a 20-something who does not enjoy his work. Writes joint advice column with fellow TC editor Brandon Scott-Gorrell (Dear Gay/Straight Dude). Article identifiers include how-to's, recipes and the overuse of #dark. Favorite articles: How To Tell If Somebody Loves You, but really, they're all gems. It would be unfair to name only a handful.

Brandon Scott Gorrell: Senior editor at TC (the big kahuna, guise), but overall fairly boring. Writes articles that revolve around YouTube videos (who watches those, really) and a lot of articles about what to do with quiet people (nothing?). Released a recent article with his "Relationship Resume". Srsly Brando? No one wants to date you for a reason. Okay, that was mean. But if this was high school, he'd be the kid that always shows up places without being invited. (I mean, he didn't even put funny on his resume! Who wants to date someone without a sense of humor?)

Kat George: The new Ryan Oh. Hilarious Australian chick living in NY. (You know her and Ryan Oh hang out on a regular basis). Articles include personal anecdotes that are extra hilarious because you read them in an Australian accent. Warning: Reading articles by Kat George may induce the feeling of wanting her to be your BFF. If you don't like reading about poop, you should probably stay away from Kat. Other than that, she's fantastic.

Chelsea Fagan: Funny girl, with red hair and cray-cray personality. Wrote a genius article de-faming "Slut Walk" (also removed from TC -- I just tried to link to it, and it seems that it doesn't exist anymore) that was quickly shunned by most of the internet and Ryan Oh himself. I, however, enjoyed it immensely and continue to enjoy her articles. They include lots of dry humor and blatant sexism -- refreshing.

Stephanie Georgopulos: A light blend of Ryan Oh and Brandon Scott Gorrell -- relatable and consistent, but still funny and not-boring. For a while, I got her and Kat George mixed up, but that line was quickly defined when Kat started climbing the TC ladder. Catalogs a lot in Life and Internet, and sometimes love. Her articles are almost always a 'hit', having some sort of redeeming quality about them. And no, I don't know how to pronounce her last name either.

Oliver Miller: Oh, how I love the name Oliver. He first caught my attention when he published an article about his name -- "Oh look, a boy named Oliver!" And then kept my interest when he published his article about alcoholism. When an author puts so much personal into an article, I'm inclined to do research (read: Facebook stalk), and I was pleased with the results. For some reason I thought he was single -- maybe an article I misunderstood? Obvii, since I can't find it now. Anyhoo, he's cute.

Leigh Alexander: A hit and miss. Sometimes she posts amazing articles like Letter From The Modern Day Courtesans and other times she posts total flops that have to do with comics. WTF, Leigh? Must read: On Intimacy.

Dan Hoffman: Wait, what? This guy has 117 posts? Who is he again?

Summer Projects

This summer, instead of my usual eat/tan/work/eat/work schedule, I added a couple projects to the mix. The first, my bike. It was cute but I wanted to spruce it up a bit. The second was repainting a piece of old furniture -- these are my results.

I painted some white and purple details on it, and then for my birthday I got titloads of accessories.

Before:

(boring, right?)

After painting:

With accessories:

See? So cute and accessorized.

I have a pin on the bow that says: Give a hoot! With an owl. (Of course)

Another one of my summer goals was to find and repaint old furniture. I was in luck one day at Saver's and found this old thing.

The disgusting color really caught my eye, and then I began to see the potential in the details. It was some kind of blue laquer that had been painted on top of the white, and it was mostly chipped off (see: the desk surface). This was really quite the ordeal -- it took me like 2 weeks just to strip all of the old paint off and prep it for new paint. However, it was totally worth it, because the results were fantastic.

The insides of the drawers: lined with wrapping paper.

Details on the top of the desk (designs taken from the wrapping paper)

Overall, I've been extremely please with the results of my summer projects. Maybe more to come?

The hardest, and best part of Loving Someone.

"Somebody loves you if they call you out on your bullshit. They’re not passive, they don’t just let you get away with murder. They know you well enough and care about you enough to ask you to chill out, to bust your balls, to tell you to stop. They aren’t passive observers in your life, they are in the trenches. They have an opinion about your decisions and the things you say and do. They want to be a part of it; they want to be a part of you."

-Ryan O'Connell

This entire article is beautiful. Ryan Ohh is amazing.

This. Need. Now.

Ah-mazing. Totally Project Runway-worthy.

Now who wants to buy them for me?

A quote from Eliot Rose's "A Love Letter From My Hands to Yours"

"In my veins I’ve always known you are of a wandering tribe. It was silly of me to believe I could hold you forever. Just know, when your exploits have left you weary, I’ll be up late, challenging these keys to tell you the things my mouth could never say."

-Oh, Thought Catalog.

Fires, pineapples and cops, oh my!

But not necessarily in that order. You see, it all starting this evening around 9 pm, after a rather disappointing trip to Target.

I was there looking for wrapping paper (to line my desk drawers with--but that's another post) and red, white and blue M&M's. After wandering around in the store aimlessly for an hour, running into a couple I'd rather not talk to, and spending at least 20 minutes in front of the wrapping paper display (alas, only to be disappointed) I gave up and left the store. It is a rare day that I come out of Target empty handed, so this is one for the record books already. I sat in my car with a disheartened sigh and decided that I didn't want to go home. I remembered from Facebook previously that day that there was to be a bonfire at the Delt Haus, and proceeded to call my mother for permission to attend it. She complied, under the condition that I would not drink (I had already planned on staying sober, by the way) and I began the trek to Caldwell, elated with the possibility of seeing people that I hadn't hung out with in a month.

The actual bonfire itself was pretty uneventful, some wood was burned, I got hit on by Will Gordon, caught up with Maria--the uszh. Around 12 am, I got pretty bored and decided I would be on my way. I had just gotten on the freeway when I got a text from Maria (and I quote) "Preseeent". She had said something earlier about having my birthday present from her in her car, and I realized that I had left without it. Not willing to let my present be stuck in her car ONE MORE DAY I promptly got off at the next exit and turned around to go back to the haus.

In case you are not familiar with Caldwell, let me tell you about it. Fucking weird. You see, it has this one street (Cleveland Blvd) that links Caldwell to Nampa, and has a bunch of pawn shops and tattoo parlors along it (catch my drift, eh?), and then all these side streets that run diagonally to it. It's not that hard to figure out once you've been driving along it for a while, but when you first get out there it's like "Hmm, I think I'll turn here, this seems right. WAIT WTF WHERE AM I IS THIS THE MCDONALD'S BY SCHOOL OH MY GOD THERE'S THE DOLLAR STORE WHAT??" Anyway, having lived out in C-town for 9 months or so, I know my way around pretty well. I turned at the McDonald's, (as you do, the fastest way to get to C of I from Cleveland Blvd), and then at the intersection of Indiana and whatever street the dollar store is on, there is a 4-way stop sign. In the height of traffic this can get pretty crazy because apparently after driver's ed no one remembers how to use a stop sign anymore. But in this case, it was like half past midnight and the road was pretty much empty. So I brake at the stop sign and go on my merry way. I turn on my brights to see where to turn for the Delt Haus driveway, and right at that second I spy blue and red lights in my rearview mirror.

Yep. I got pulled over.

I pulled to the side of the road while simultaneously panicking in my head. ("OH MY GOD IS THAT A COP? Guess I'll pull over to the shoulder* instead of the parking lot that is like, 100 feet away. I wonder if he's going to be a nice cop, OH MY GOD why is he taking forever?? Why do they always take forever?? How am I going to tell my mom about this**! OHMYGOD")

Anyway, I reached in the back for my purse, dug out my wallet, rolled down my window and began to patiently wait for the officer to come interrogate me. Of course, I began to wonder why I was pulled over while waiting for him to come (which seemed like an eternity) and decide it must be not coming to a complete stop at the stop sign. Hopefully I'll get a nice officer who understands and won't give me a ticket. I start praying to God a little bit, hoping I don't get a ticket. Eventually he showed up at my window, and our conversation went a little something like this:

Officer: "Evening, ma'm."

Me: "Hello, officer!" (Okay, he looks friendly. Bald, but his eyes are nice. Maybe I'm in luck!)

O: "I'm Officer *mumble mumble mumble* on the night watch tonight. Are you aware that you did not come to a complete stop at the intersection?"

Me: "Yes, I was," *gestures awkwardly back at the intersection* "I was thinking about why you pulled me over and decided that was it, yeah."

O: "How old are you?"

Me: "19."

O: "Do you have a license?"

Me: "Yes!" *enthusiastically pulls it out of wallet*

O: "Where are you coming from tonight?" *whilst shining flashlight in my eyes*

Me: *Squinting* "Just right up there," *gestures towards Delt Haus, "I was at my friend's house and then I realized I forgot my birthday present, so I had to circle back and come get it..."

O: "I see...so you go to school here?"

Me: "Yep."

O: "What are you studying?"

Me: "I'm a theater/psychology double major." *Ruffles through papers in glove box to find registration*

O: "You play any sports?"

Me: "Nope...just theater..."

O: "Well, have you ever gotten a ticket before?"

Me: "No, sir."

O: "Do you want one now?"

Me: "No, sir."

O: "Do you promise to come to complete stops?"

Me: "Yes, sir!"

O: "Alright then, I'll let you go. You have a good night, drive safe."

Me: "I will, thank you very much!!"

*Which isn't really a shoulder at all, just a bike lane. Poor panicky-decisions.

**BTW, sorry if you read this before I get the chance to tell you, Mom. Love you!

I then proceeded to drive my adrenaline-pumped, shaking ass the next 500 feet to the Delt Haus to receive my gift, which was....drum roll please.....a pineapple!

I gave Maria a run down of what just happened and she spaced out for most of it, I think, plus I was all hyped up and wasn't really speaking English. It's hard enough for her to understand me when I'm speaking English because she's Asian, so I can't imagine what she thought I was talking about. "Crazy white girl waving her hands around talking about being arrested. Oh shit, cops, I'm giving this bitch a pineapple and leaving."

That was my night. I thank my lucky stars I had a nice officer who understood. Turns out everything I've heard about talking yourself out of tickets is true, tell the truth, be honest and nice to the officer and he'll (or she, I guess) be understanding. Lesson learned: Come to a complete stop.

Again, my life = made.

Hands down, the best birthday present ever. Further proof that Dillon is the Best Friend Ever.

http://dillongr.blogspot.com/2011/06/happy-birthday-courtney.html

So lost for words right now. I could cry of happiness if I ever cried. I only cry when I AMLOST.

Birthday Wishlist

1. A kitty.
2. A hot man.
3. A shopping spree.
4. To live somewhere that it is accepted (and reasonable) that I ride my bike everywhere.
5. This place also preferably has a beach.

And I don't know. Lots of other things too, I guess.

It's June.

Yay.

My future online dating profile

I decided I can add/edit this when I get to the point where I have to start dating online.

Original thoughts of mine are very rare, and when they come they will probably make you laugh your ass off. What I will do, though, is steal other people’s jokes I think are funny and then deliver them in a terrible way that will ruin them, because I’ll already be laughing at the punchline I’m thinking of but can’t say. I’m on this dating website because I’m a little bit crazy, a little bit funny, and a little bit attractive. I’m aware of the absolute contradiction of my high standards, and am not willing to budge on them. I will not go to the gym, but expect you to. I will not skimp out on late-night dessert or white bread, and will look down on you if you do, simultaneously expecting you to stay fit. I’d rather die fat and happy than skinny and angry (let’s face it, I’d love to die eating my favorite foods a size 6 but we both know that’s not going to happen)(also, I totally stole that joke from someone. See what I mean?). I’m probably going to laugh at you when you do something romantic, and I probably will make you watch a lot of tv with me. I will hog the covers and keep the room we sleep in very cold, for comfort’s sake. I refuse to get up before 10 on a day when I have no obligations, and will not tolerate loud noises before then. I expect you to validate my feelings when they need validation and challenge them when I’m wrong. Believe it or not, I do want a differing point of view every once and a while, but when (and only when) I want it. I want what I want when I want it. I will take out my anger on you and apologize for it later. I don’t have a lot of baggage, and am pretty easy going. I don’t like making decisions, but will if forced. I will judge you for using poor grammar and will not text you back if you use “u” as a replacement for “you” and/or don’t use punctuation.

Jack is cute but kind of emotionally crippled

A few months ago we went to Missouri and brought back 2 dogs. Now it is important for you to understand their upbringings in order to understand their behavior. Lulu is a little white fluffball who grew up at my aunt’s house, with 3 children, an older lab, and lots of fun and attention. Jack grew up at my grandmother’s house, who was dying of cancer at the time. You can already guess their different temperaments. When she DID die, my aunt adopted Jack (even though my grandma specifically said Jack was to go to our family) on the premise that the siblings should stay together. When we visited Missouri for my grandma’s funeral, I coddled Jack. I felt sorry for him! How could you not? Plus, he was adorable. Both of these dogs are very tiny, and very cute. Lulu always got the most attention because she was very lovey and easygoing. Jack, on the other hand is anxious, and his bony hips get in the way of cuddling most of the time.

Anyway. So we took these two dogs off of my Aunt’s hands this year, and I have to say, Jack has become a bit of an emotional drag. He’s anxious all the time, and will never jump up on your lap. He comes up to you on the couch, puts his front paws on your lap, like he’s asking. And when you say, “Come on Jack-Jack!” and pat your lap in encouragement, he turns around and sits down. Not a big deal when I’m on the couch, I just reach down and pick him up. But when I’m on my bed and he goes down to my feet and does the same thing, I can’t quite reach him. So I try to coax him over to my hand, so I can pick him up, and he doesn’t come. He’s sitting on a pillow, so I pull the pillow over towards me to reach him, but frightened by the sudden movement, he promptly hops off. You can see how frustrating this becomes. He requires constant emotional reassurance and coaxing, something I’ve never been good at. It was cute when I didn’t live with him, I was willing to pick him up and put him outside. But now when I’m trying to get him to go out with the rest of the dogs, his inability to understand “come” or “go outside” start to get on my nerves.

Edit: As I post this Jack is being scolded for peeing. Poor baby. I wish he was potty-trained.

Why you so obsessed with me...

Boy I wanna knoww!

Okay, but really. Sometimes I wonder what Ryan O'Connell thinks of mine and Dillon's obsession with him, and I really couldn't put it more eloquently:

I bet he's sitting around a table snorting pills/coke with all of his friends and he's like, "Ohhhh em geeee, you guys. These kids from Idaho are totes obsessed with me. It's cute in the way that it makes me happy that they like my writing, but it also gets kind of annoying. It would bother me more, but they live in Idaho and I don't imagine there's much to do there."

-Dillon Richey.

And that is why we're friends.

Well, there you have it.

My freshman year is over. How I managed a 3.0 Spring semester is beyond me. Don't get me wrong, I tried really, really hard -- but that's just it -- I tried REALLY, REALLY hard. Never before have I tried this hard to get a 3.0 before. It paid off, and I'm really happy with the way my freshman year turned out. I made some awesome friends, had some awesome experiences, and don't regret a thing.

Really, all of my beginning of the year memories blend together in the end. I forget where each night ended up, who was with who where, and what they did. I think they've begun to shape who I'm going to be these next 3 years, and I've got to say -- I like where it's going. I had my ups and downs, but in hindsight, I always do. Throughout high school I had these hiccups too. Some friendships ended, new ones blossomed, but I came out alive.

Life goes on. And I choose to believe that everything happens for a reason, and every person I meet has something to offer me. I'm so lucky to be here, I'm so lucky to have the experiences I have had, and I'm so lucky to have met the people I did.

I wouldn't change a thing.

Ryan Oh could actually maybe come into my life in a very big way

Weird coincidence: Ryan O'Connell works at the Ace Hotel New York, which means that if Alex ever got transferred there for any reason they could fall in love and Ryan O'Connell would be part of my life. Forever.

I'm so funny it should be illegal.

2 ¢

In light of recent events, I've been forced to reexamine the way that I deal with how other people treat me. Coping mechanisms, if you will. I've done it all -- confrontation, passive-aggression, but the one way of coping that always served me the best (in the long run) was turning the other cheek. I am not afraid to speak my mind when I'm asked of it, or state my reasons for thinking something that I do (granted, they might not always be justified, and I will readily admit that) but I will not offer them unsolicited.

I give people the benefit of the doubt. Most I would give a second chance if asked. This has bitten me in the ass more than once, but I do it anyway -- because I believe people are inherently good. This might make me ignorant. But all I know is what I experience. Frankly, I don't care what other people say about how I deal with things, because I've come to this conclusion for a reason, as I'm sure everyone else has. We all create morals and guidelines for living based on our own experiences.

I don't appreciate it when someone writes off my reasoning because they believe theirs is inherently better when it's not -- it's just different. None is necessarily better than the other.

In the end, it comes down to values. What you value in other people and how their values always seem to come out in the end anyway. I want someone who's going to value the same things I do, because I'm tired of being treated as an imbecile for thinking differently.

Why I love Thought Catalog

About every 6 months or so, I find a new internet addiction, and few keep my interest for longer than that. Thought Catalog, however, is different. It's updated often enough to keep me interested, writes about things that entertain me, and every once and a while, publishes an article that wows me. Every once and a while, there's an article so good that it brings tears to my eyes.

It's about knowing that there's someone out there who's going through exactly what I'm going through, they're just better at expressing it. And it's so perfect, the way they phrase things, and the way they always seem to pop up in my life when I need it most. I will swear to god that the editors there have a hidden camera in my room to know when to post things in relevancy to my life.

I know I went through this same obsession with CokeTalk, but this is different. Because I can kind of predict what CokeTalk is going to say--she basically reacts the same way to everything--but with Thought Catalog, every day is a new surprise. (That's the other part, TC updates WAY more than CokeTalk, but whatevs).

Maybe one day, I'll write something good enough to be published on Thought Catalog--until then, I'll have to unofficially catalog my thoughts.

I usually hate remakes but...

This is an exception. DEFINITELY.

Seriously, though. I want this music video to be my life.

It's May.

That means many things.

• Spring. Aka, shorts, tanning, and shirtless men.
• The end of my freshman year. (OHMAGAWW)
• Finals.
• Packing.
• Modest Mouse.
• Iron & Wine.
• Graduation.
• Spring Fling.

This year has flown by. The more things change, the more they stay the same, I think.

It's weird.

I'm sad. And excited. And scared. But mostly excited.

That's it, it's all over.

It's weird that the show is over. Of course, every day passing is full of moments that I'll never get back, but when it's defined in such clear terms, like the ending of a show, it always seems so much more important. This experience is so completely unique and I'll never get it back -- that's what's scary. All of this was so fleeting. Back at the beginning of the term Mike told us in Stagecraft that we'll have to strike the show at the end of April and I distinctly remember thinking, wow, that's so far away. It will take forever to come.

But here I am. I just came from striking the show.

Of course, back then I had no idea where I'd be. I didn't know that I would be in the show, and I didn't know how much it would mean to me. How much these people would mean to me.

Because of rehearsals, I kept missing out on things like bowling night, St. Patrick's day, and Ms. C of I, but to me those sacrifices were worth it. I was making the sacrifice for something that I absolutely LOVE, and that's what's important. Hearing all of the seniors talk about their graduation plans, and everything that they're going to do is so exciting. I get excited for them.

Of course, as an actor, you take away something from every show that you're in, every role you play. This one in particular was kind of ironic, because it's all about wondering about our purpose in life, and how everyone seems to be in on the joke but us. My favorite quote was from one of Rosencrantz's monologues:

"Before we know the words for it, before we know that there ARE words, out we come, bloodied and squalling with the knowledge that for all the compasses in the world, there is only one direction, and time it's only measure."

It's a great quote.

I'm really sad to see this come to a close, but alas. Everything comes to a close, we just don't always realize it.

My life = made.

Did you just see that? Ryan O'Connell (my all-time-favorite Thought Catalog writer) wants to buy me a drink if I'm ever in NYC.

I'm going to die of happiness.

SERIOUSLY THOUGH. This is the best day of my life.

Take me to the place I love, take me all the way.

Something occurred to me last night, right before I fell asleep (like all good ideas do) and instead of letting this one slip out of my head during full consciousness, I saved it in a text message.

I was reflecting on my weekend, and all that had gone on and determined that there are two types of guys.

1. Mentally stimulating, conversations consist of witty banter, fast and fun, but quickly burn out and don't last long, attraction reciprocated and acted on almost immediately, spans over a couple of weeks, months at most.
2. Oblivious of hotness, doesn't quite have game yet, an elementary-type pursuit that consists of a large "infatuation" phase where nothing serious happens for a long time, conversations are short and vague/analyzed to the point of nonexistence, can span over months or years.

While I have experienced both of these in college thus far, I'm not sure which I prefer. Naturally, I do quite enjoy the first, and at first glance I do like the witty banter and initial attraction a lot more than the second, but the second keeps my interest longer. The second also consists of a lot of mental torture and analytics, as I stated previously. That kind of thing takes me back to middle school--analyzing everything someone says and does to try and get their attention.

Another important thing to consider is the role I take in each of these situations. In the first, I think of it as a power struggle where I'm playing hard to get and the power holder. In the second I'm more likely to be submissive and agreeable, even pretending to like things I don't actually like just so we'll have something in common.

From a friend's perspective, both are kind of annoying to deal with, but I think the first is less annoying just because of length of which they have to endure my obsession. I also try to seem less obsessive when I'm pursuing the first, because it's part of the act, but in reality I obsess just as much. I'm just better at hiding it.

So where does this leave me? As of the last couple sentences, I think it means I like the second more. The obsession, the chase, the (almost creepy) worship, but above all, naiivete of it all. One of my favorite things in the world is being able to naively love somebody. Because in that state of mind, your love is pure. You're truly vulnerable, and that's something that goes under appreciated.

In the grand scheme of things, all of these boys are just a drop in the bucket, as much as I'd love to believe that they're not.

This also makes me think of a nerd joke my dad told me once: There are 10 types of people in the world. Those who understand binary and those who don't.

Yes.

This is what I want to do. Now, I’m sure of it. I’ve never felt more inspired, felt more loved or as happy as I am after an evening of rehearsal. It’s the lights, hot on my face and the exchange of energy from my fellow actors to the audience, and back to me. I feed off of that rush I get when I walk on stage.

It’s not even all about performing. It’s about transforming into someone else, even if it’s just for a couple hours. It’s about discovering new parts of myself that I didn’t know were there until I saw them through someone else’s eyes.

This is my runner’s high. My adrenaline rush. I’ve never felt so alive.

This could be one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.

I’ve found my passion.

This is what I want to do.

Forever.

But, these people, this experience, is all so fleeting. I only have 7 more shows to prove myself. 7 more opportunities that I will only get once. I need to make each of them count. 7 more performances, unique each of itself. None will be exactly the same.

They will all blur together, but all stick out, at the same time.

This is what I want.

Yep.

Accurate.

I read this while listening to The Ocean by The Bravery.

You should too.

/ˈchī(ə)ld/

Then again, maybe I will have my own kids.

This is the bike I want.

But I've no idea where to find it.

Plant Killer and Dog Lover

I LEAVE FOR A WEEK AND THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS? THANKS A LOT, DAD. HOW HARD IS IT TO WATER A PLANT? NOT HARD, THAT'S WHAT.

On a more positive note, look at all of the canine love I'm getting.

SO FUGGIN' CUTE.

They're gonna be the 3 best friends that anyone could have.

PicNik Photo Editor

I recently discovered the PicNik photo editing program from Picasa. These are some of the pictures I've edited so far. They were my favorite pictures to begin with and now they're even better. :) Yay.

My friend Corrin at my birthday party last year.

Me and my friend Angie after we had breakfast last week.

Gratuitous picture of myself last Wednesday, also my current profile picture.

Me and my dad the day that I moved into the dorms. I love this picture for so many reasons, this is just another way to love it.

A piece of my birthday cake from last year, this is the part that said "Seehoises 4 eva"

Spring Break

Yay! I'm going to Missouri to visit my aunt and bring back dogs, and then I'm going to Nebraska for speech nationals. I'm super excited. A well deserved break.

Meanwhile:

Read it. Or don't.

"So let’s say you do the dance and meet Ms. (or Mr.) Right. You fall in love with her. But beneath that, you realize that old habits die hard. Fears begin to surface. You believe that you’re hardwired to act a certain way, and that it’s expecting too much for someone who doesn’t owe you a goddamn thing to wait around for you to change. You’re going to hurt her and she doesn’t deserve it. You want to do the right thing, but you keep shooting yourself in the foot. You’re a fuck up and you don’t deserve the kindness that she’s showing you. You act ugly."

GPOYW

gLeek alert.

p.s. I edited this myself. Doesn't it look awesome? I thought so too. :D

Have you ever wondered about my love life?

This is it.

I'm just going to copy and paste the article here so you'll actually read it. If I put it as a link, I know no one will.

I Love You. I’m Hungry, Let’s Get Something to Eat…
By AMY VAN VUUREN

Fuck unrequited love.

The gnawing. The possessive desperation. The ache of unknowing, worsened only by the slow-dying thud of knowing for sure. The over-commercialized but no less real feeling that you will die, you will just DIE.

Now before we go on, let me clarify whom I’m talking about here, for the sake of the ‘piece’. I am not talking about those poor sods that sit scribbling over spell check nightmare love letters, little devotee tears pooling in their love-lacquered eyes. Spewing forth all the emotions (every little itty-bitty one) from their mussed-up heads down to their radiating feet, only to be so callously rejected with an inarticulate, “Um I just don’t see you that way.” Oh no. This is the case of the sadder. Whoever is in the path of this gushing love. The withstander of the adoration.

I am talking about me. (Or you if you feel the need to implant yourself into the story to enjoy it).

But the poor sods, I hear you puzzling, with that head tilt and bottom lip stuck out, “Are the ‘lovers’ not the ones who deserve our consideration, our condolence?” Shit no! No sympathy need be shared. They’ve got love in their hearts and fire in their bellies! Enough emotion to pen seven moleskine journals in one summery park afternoon! They are living the goddamn dream! Beloved me on the other hand…

Well, I may be that dream, but I am certainly not living it.

And this proves to be a pickle.

Because, well, although the initial splash of ego-boost is rather glorious, the incessant run of saccharine words get old and soggy and all that is left has gone rather dry and sticky and is peeling off around my eyelids.

And it is around this point that you start to wonder about your admirer. You are uncertain of their sanity. You scrutinize the loss of lucidity in their glassy, idolising eyes. You doubt their downright sensibleness. Your gorgeous, brilliant amazingness has become… their crazy. Squinting at yourself in the mirror you try to understand. You are quite passable. Pretty even, in the right light. You are intelligent and can make a decent joke. You have ‘style’. But… no, it’s not quite possible, this extent of adulation, you think, fingering the light hairs around your belly button that may even be in need of a pluck if you gave a bit of a fuck. Uneasiness pools as expectations grow. Anxiety swells. Your unsettled tummy balloons with apprehension as you realize that no one is as excellent as the woman that is being described to you as yourself. Bloody hell, you don’t even flush the toilet after making a pee anymore!

Love, you conclude, has turned the boy mad.

But still, you question yourself. Your reasons. Your doubt. Your straightforward ‘no’. This silly man’s obsession has now made you challenge your legitimate feelings. He believes it is because you are not ready. You are frightened of intimacy because of your childhood rejections. You aren’t allowing yourself to love. Maybe now is not the right time but… it will be.

The interrogation begins:

Should I..?

Could it..?

Maybe..?

A chance..?

Just high standards..?

No.

No.

No.

No.

Yes, but God won’t be happy if you settle for less.

There are sit-down talks. (They are tiresome.) There are separations. (They don’t last.) There are tears. (They aren’t yours.) There are awkward reconciliations. (They are selfish and stunted.) There are ultimatums. (I thought we weren’t in a relationship here?)

The friendship that you thought somewhat durable is now not only showing fault lines but has actually collapsed quite completely beneath you, and you are left hunched on the passionless heap, your unimpressed hand squashed into your unimpressed face. You have to prudently back the fuck out, it seems, because your charming presence is just too much for your admirer to bear. The real you must withdraw just a little bit; not talk about your body or your feelings on your pseudo bisexuality and definitely no song-playing with lyrics that can be misconstrued as a hidden message, no mention of any actual or possible past/present/future conquests and especially no passing comment on that guy in the next car’s beard. (This is if you care of course. You could do nothing and just be AWESOME.)

Another lover gained. Another buddy lost.

End it all now! Take me back take us back let’s be friends and confidantes and eat sandwiches together and speak about everything our jobs our imaginary careers that book we should write together how this film is so kak who we’d like to kiss how that girl looks like that weird one from that thing about my itchy skin allergy that no isn’t contagious where we should go next Sunday afternoon how I don’t like that one friend of yours about how boss nineties movies are about how cool the word boss is why isn’t it used anymore let’s bring it back that you prefer my hair reddish now that it’s dark how that Nandos by your house has really gone downhill why this sort of music is even made should we get tickets for that thing you never wear your glasses anymore is that shirt new weren’t we supposed to be doing something tonight instead of just sitting here in your house.

End it all.

Because all we talk about now… Is us.

And it’s killing me.

The worst of it is this boy’s outpouring of tumultuous passion, this jet stream of lust, his grand proclamations of perennial love that are beautiful and inspiring and are sometimes too much but sometimes just right are just a constant, torturous reminder that You. Just. Aren’t. Feeling. Anything.

Wait a minute… Hold the phone. Could it be…? Wait, here it comes… It’s coming! An epiphany! My epiphany! Do my ratty feelings on this whole subject all just mean that I… dear me, I… just want… to love..?

Of course! Should I just give in then? Just go for it? Oh, to requite! The pleasure! The cheek-numbing joy! The mind-deadening, brain-fucking bliss! How easy it all seems! How happy we would be! You are quite lovely really… We could move past my insecurities, we would be the most beautiful couple. We would go to braais together and all our friends would shake their heads and smile and say Ah we knew it and we would get an apartment after a few years and we could even eventually get married and have little kid-lings of ourselves who would have the best taste in music because we’d make them that way and we could grow old together and watch our granddaughter get married and then we would die, happy, sighing in each others arms, spent from our magical life, because that was what is and always was meant to be.

…

But, um… I just don’t see you that way.

If you're wondering, I found it on Thought Catalog, my new crack.