Tag Archives: tired

“The Question Is, Are You Happy?”

I find myself going through my daily routine, engulfed by my own thoughts about what it feels like to be “happy”. I remember being happy. Happy was me at Warped Tour, swaying to the beat of some newly discovered bands and realizing how much I adored the sound of something new gracing my ears. Happy was when I sat on the beach with my mom, coffee in hand and gnat-bitten to death, awaiting the arrival of a new sunrise on the shore. Happy was when I heard one of my favorite songs on the radio like I had millions of times before, but this time, managed to belt out all the words as loud as I could with the windows down, completely shamelessly. I know “happy”. Happy has always been a good friend of mine, but has slowly drifted from my grasp as of late. He’s become someone who sends a card on only the holidays signed with just his name, someone who pops in and says “hello” but never actually takes the time to truly absorb my answers, to question the strange intonations of my responses. He’s someone that has mistakenly forgotten to return my calls, tragically missed my texts, and has found new places and people to foster his sparks. Happiness has become an acquaintance, even more so a stranger. As of late.

The question is, am I happy? Am I happy now, at this very moment in time and my life?

I feel like my questioning confirms my answer enough.

The Terrible (And Relatively Tolerable) Truths About Being Twenty

Twenty. It’s an awkward age. And I thought I was awkward then. Psh. I’ve only blossomed. When I was younger, I always thought that twenty was going to be such a grand thing. I was going to have everything in my life together, wrapped neatly in a white picket fence and bow. Well, not yet, but on my way toward the like. But as a current twenty year old, I can honestly say that it isn’t as glamorous as it seems (self-kick to the childhood). Here are a few terrible truths about being twenty that I never would’ve even thought about as a kid, that I now know to be inevitably true. The fantasy has officially been extinguished.

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1. Life: “You need to get your act together. You’re an ADULT. You need to have job experience. Nobody’s gonna take you seriously unless you start taking on more than your schedule can hold. Do it for ME–I mean….employers.” Love always, Your Parents (and supposedly your greatest support system. Hrm. It’s just tough love. Right? Riiiight?)

Reality Check: You’re too young to have a full-time occupation but still too old to “babysit”. At this point, it would just be weird (“You little slacker, you. Nobody’s gonna look at that babysitting job on your resume and say, “Wow, this kid’s a catch. He can whip up snacks and make sure kids don’t die while their parents “visit grandma for dinner”. Hurry, grab him while he’s still available. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHY ARE YOU NOT ON THE PHONE WITH HIM AS WE SPEAK?! These qualifications are rare.”). If you’re not an intern for a major corporation by 20 (If you’re not already owning it by now, because you should really be trying to get ahead of the pack, you slacker), you’re the epitome of a failure. Embrace the failure stink. It’s all that you’ll ever know.

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2. Life: “You know Josh? Do you remember little ol’ Josh? Well, Josh works for the FBI now–he’s in charge of the FBI–oh excuse me, he CREATED the FBI. And he’s only 19. And he’s also cured cancer, built homes for the poor, completely ended world hunger, and invented a flying car, all in one weekend. Could you imagine what he could do in two?! Josh was always such a good boy, but wow! Josh is so great now! Why can’t you be like Josh? You should call Josh. Hang out with Josh. Love Josh. Love him. Josh. Josh. Josh. Josh. Joshjoshjoshjoshjosh….(“Josh” chant that leaves you in a state of eternal hell, kind of like the ending to the “Bill Nye the Science Guy” chant at the end of his intro. Ring a bell?)” (The name “Josh” is hypothetical, but I guess if you’re an awesome Josh, I’m talking about you, buddy. You’re making my parents and everyone with high expectations of me hate my freakin’ guts. Good job. HOPE YOU’RE PROUD.)

Reality Check: We all know a Josh. Ugh. Kinda wish he’d go away and take his Facebook full of all of his stupid milestones with him. He makes my own major accomplishments look like mere blips on the radar, and then I get verbally paddled (with a gentle voice occasionally to cushion the blow) because he’s the next young genius of geniuses in all of Geniusville. This is why Netflix exists. Not to entertain us (me). It’s so we (I) can wallow in our (my) disappointed existence because Josh ALREADY FIXED ALL THE WORLD’S PROBLEMS SO THERE’S NOTHING LEFT TO DO. JOSH HAS IT ALL FIGURED OUT, DOESN’T HE?! But think of it this way. Because of Josh and all of his perfections that you lack, your services are no longer needed. You’re free. Roam, my child.

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3. Life: “Here, have some homework. Wanna hang with friends? Here, have some homework. Got some dishes to do? How about some homework? Family is packing the van and driving for several hours, updating you every five seconds to ensure that you’re waiting at the apartment like a dog that hasn’t been fed in months, so they can see you for the first time in what feels like centuries? It’s a great time for a research paper that has to be a minimum (minimum. not maximum.) of 800 pages, single spaced, due obviously tonight. That’s enough time, right? That was rhetorical, by the way. Eh, who cares. I most certainly don’t care.” -Life

Reality Check: Any and every time you have plans, there will be some homework knocking on your door. True fact. The only way to fight against the buildup is to either get ahead or build a pillow fort out of your whole apartment and become a total shut in, avoid eye contact with your roommate who already thinks you’re a nutcase, and close off all connections to the real world. Nothing can come with you on this journey of seclusion. No laptop, no ipod, and no, not even the smart phone. That phone will know if you’re hiding, and it will notify all of your contacts (including Facebook friends, maybe even the ones you don’t like and don’t know why you ever added) that you’ve completely lost your marbles, as the newest feature of the newest iPhone obviously does. Before you know it, they’ll all come ruthlessly banging on your paper-thin door begging you to gather some sense. Just kidding. You’re gonna die alone in there. With a heavy head and an empty stomach. Nobody is going to realize you disappeared. All because you didn’t want to do your homework. Kinda seems silly now, doesn’t it? Just whip out the 800 page paper. It’ll only take you about an hour. Or a million hours. Something like that. I’m not good with numbers.

Parents: “See, Josh was never afraid to–“

Me: “SHUT UP. Just shut up”.

Parents: “But Josh always did his homework before it was due and he still managed to–“

*mysterious disappearance not caused by prior events/conversations at all but definitely by something else, yeah*

*Oh no, where did my parents go? Oh it was an accident. Oh it happened all of a sudden. Oh*

 Can you relate?

We can bask together. Share if you dare.

Watch Out! The Weight Police Have Struck Again!

Because I have expressed unhappiness at my current weight (which could easily be fixed on my own, might I add), like a dog with a chew toy, I have experienced others tear through any bit of security and comfortableness I have within myself. It’s shameful of anyone to pretend like they know how a body should look and to take it upon themselves to punish others for not fitting the standard that they consider “beautiful” and “healthy”. Don’t let the judgment of others on you, whether it be your weight, a personality trait they don’t like, your supposed “laziness” as a college student focusing on your school work, whatever, take control of your life. Don’t give other people the keys to your happiness. Not everything in life is about numbers, nor does someone’s weight, out of all things, equal their worth (or less worth, in my case) as a human being. There is much more to each individual than how they look, and this needs to be brought to light. I’m realizing myself in many more ways than this, and I can only hope that I will come across others who will support me through thick and thin, no pun intended. Unconditional love truly is difficult to come by.

Fat shaming is wrong on any level, and so is the existence of needless discouragement and verbal assaults in this world that already implements enough insecurity on its own.

Words hurt.

Trick question: What is better than ONE DOCTOR APPOINTMENT when you have other stuff you need to do?

Yes, the correct answer is TWO. TWO DOCTOR APPOINTMENTS. Much, much better. Getting probed (doubly, back to back) can now officially be checked off my Bucket List.

Daily Writing Prompt: “Her coffee cup slipped right out of her hand and smashed into a thousand pieces on the kitchen floor…”

Her coffee cup slipped right out of her hand and smashed into a thousand pieces on the kitchen floor, her bare feet covered in droplets of her own blood, scalding coffee, and the aftermath of scattered shards. She bit into her lip to suppress the reaction building up within her mouth, closing her eyes tightly. It’s alright. You’re okay. Grabbing hold of the counter, she stretched her leg across the glass debris, bringing herself to safety within the near hallway. A sigh escaped as she glared down at the mess. So much for getting a head start. She glanced at the clock. It exhibited “1:24 AM” in bold, flashing characters. Her day had felt an awful lot like this: making messes, mending messes, repeat. She was on the verge of tears, sweeping the remains of her business trip souvenir and reviewing her mental list of all the work she had to accomplish before the beginning of the next morning, the ungodly hours of the early-riser shift. I have about 4.5 hours…I can do this. If I plan my time accordingly, I can have my pitch in the works and get some studying done for my exam on….is it…Monday, I believe? Is the exam on Monday, or Tuesday? She attempted to scramble to the calendar mounted upon her wall, luckily escaping potential impalement. A pain grew in the pit of her stomach, and she could feel the rise of a headache in her temples. Tomorrow? How…How can that be? I….thought it was next week? She confirmed the dreadful conclusion. Tomorrow. Closing her eyes, she envisioned the next day, taking into account all that it could potentially hold. Slowly, she released her breath, counting to ten. You can do this. It doesn’t matter what this job, what your classes throw at you. You’re strong, you’re going to be prepared, you’re focused. With that, she had whirred out to her living room, settled with her laptop upon her desk, and challenged the night looming dauntingly ahead. 

I hate those restless nights when…

It’s too late to take zzzquil but it’s too early to wake up. It’s that in between stage at night, and lucky for me, I can’t sleep.

Random thought: Night routines could easily be the death of me

I wish I could just snap my fingers and make all the makeup, hair products, accessories, and uncomfortable clothes disappear right before going to bed. I’d be eternally happy.