For some reason I think it’s okay to go weeks and weeks operating on 4-5 hrs of sleep every night. And for some reason I think it’s okay to eat only fast-food for days, and not drink any water. And to go an entire week and only be sober 2 of the days.
I’m alive, but I forget that my body can actually feel healthy.
I bumped into this guy tonight that spotted me earlier in the day. He smoked me up, with his friend, and we had one of the most amazing conversations I’ve ever had in my life. He brought mind-blowing promise to my up-coming year of meeting new people.
He went to my school when I was a freshman and he was a senior. Somehow he said he remembered me, mostly through a friend - Zoe Ligon.
After hanging and chillin’ for like 2 and a half hours, we decided we’re going to make millions of dollars together. If only I could stress how serious I am right now.
It’s 3:52 A.M., my eyes are about to begin roasting, and I’m buzzzzzzzed.
so basically all the text posts you publish are really beautifully written and thoughtful and nice. just thought i'd let you know i appreciate them even though i don't know you all that well. hope alls well
Thanks! I really appreciate that. I can never tell with my writing - half the time it’s either rushed and everything’s spelled incorrectly, or it turns out half descent.
So I had a talk with my American Apparel district manager yesterday
I had to go in to cover a shift for one of my friends, Imani, and my district manager along with my store’s assistant manager were there to talk to me.
So first they talked about how I’ve been requesting off a bunch of time - which is basically because it’s the end of the year, and senior banquet and prom and all that good stuff is coming up. And then they talked about me getting people to sub in for my shifts, and me subbing in shifts. And they basically said I need to communicate to them shift changes I’m planning on making.
So after they (politely) got on me for a little while, they asked if I had anything to say. So I brought up how I’ve scouted a bunch of people for the company, and how I have a good understanding of the brand American Apparel itself, and how I’m moving to New York for college really soon… and all of that good stuff. And I came out and asked if I could be a scout for the company once I move up to NY in 5 months.
And my district manager basically said she’d e-mail the higher-up people in New York that do that, and CC me on their e-mail response back. So basically, when I go to college I’ll be promoted to full-time American Apparel scout if this all works out. Which would entail being paid a descent salary to get people hired for all the New York stores and manage open calls at random locations. And the fact that I’m about to be making $10/hr this summer, I can’t even imagine how much I’ll be making if I get this promotion.
Shit is fucking good. Oh, and my manager said she’d do Spring Break calculus home-work hahah.
And I don’t think I seriously understand what that actually is going to mean. In less than a half a year from now, my new home will be New York City. Living full-time at home, in Silver Spring, MD will be something of the past. And my future in NY will be all that’s left.
I hate to sound like a wannabe New Yorker hipster, but that’s fucking exciting. I’ll get to get up and go whenever the fuck I want to. I’ll be able to go to a million and one delis anytime of the day and night. I’ll be able to see my other friends moving to New York WHENEVER. No one but me will be responsible for myself. I’ll be able to do whatever the fuck I ever want to. Sort of.
Like, this shit is actually happening. I’m going to tell my children about my freshmen year in New York city. My mind needs to catch the fuck up, because my life is moving entirely too fast.
I swear crying is such a selfish reaction to shit. Have you ever just thought to yourself: Why the fuck am I crying? .. Who the fuck am I crying for?. Honestly, you probably haven’t. Because if you did, you would NOT be crying as much as you do now. That’s why I don’t cry; crying is just a way that people appease their sadness.
If not for these reasons then it’s usually to show people how much you (don’t) really care. It’s all fucking bullshit, stop crying for someone that was your cousin’s best-friend’s sister’s baby-daddy’s sister’s OB-GYN. You don’t know these people. You’re not sad. Two hours you hear of their death you’re yuckin’ it up with your stupid fucking friends about the latest episode of Glee.
I guess my point is, while you don’t have to hold in all of your emotions and be a rock, you also don’t have to be outwardly distraught. It’s okay that you’re not really affected by every single person’s death, just don’t act like you are. Because in all honesty, it’s a slap in the face to their loved ones. Nobody wants to hear your fucking sobbing
I feel like I finally put my finger on what it means to be a hipster. Being a hipster means…
Trying to pretend as if all your interests and things you talk about are something you know tons and tons about, even though you probably just found out about it recently - while creating the façade of being extremely lax about things in an almost conceited and domineering way - while bashing interests and things you found interests in probably less than a year ago - while wearing things most likely found in American Apparel or Urban Oufitters (if not the thrift store).
But I think the most important thing that distinguishes a hipster from someone who would be assumed to be a hipster, is that hipsters pretend. But that’s only what I think. I wonder what made me make this post.
I can’t decide whether I like trying really hard and reaping the benefits, or slacking off and having a good time. When I think about it, I’m equally happy doing either or. Except there’s a bit less stress when I’m on top of chores and school work.
Slacking off is just so fucking easy, though. Like I just cleaned my room for the first time in months, and it feels great. And it wasn’t even that big of a deal. And I need some rest. For some reason I think it’s okay to go to bed at 1 o’clock or 2 o’clock in the morning everyday.
And I need to get my shit together for college. Because I don’t want to be legitimately sloppy, lazy and stupid when shit really starts to matter.
Yesterday after hassling with my friends for hours, I found my way out of the house (phoneless), on the bus to downtown Silver Spring. Of course I decide to not take my umbrella - and of course Mother Nature decides to start raining. So in effort to stay dry - which turned into an even more of an epic fail - I took some alternative route to get to my friend Yoel’s (http://disaster-ology.tumblr.com) house.
After 45 mins of wondering around downtown in the rain (somehow ending up at a train station (not metro station)) I got to Yoel’s apartment building. Snuck through the lock doors, knocked on 2 incorrect doors on the 5th floor, and finally met up with him.
Caught up for a second, and realized that our plans to chill with my friend Grace were DEAD. Got schmig in his room, and hit up our friends Imani and Noah. Imani’s a friend that I got hired to work with me at American Apparel, and Noah (http://nohirsch.tumblr.com) is a friend I met through my other friend Mady (http://lavablocks.tumblr.com).
SOOO… Then we all met up. And for some strange reason this day, we thought it would be okay to park less than a block away from the center of downtown Silver Spring and begin blazing.
So mid-way through the toke’n session, as Noah exhaled smoke from his mouth a cop car pulls up and flashes the light into the car. And for some reason - at the same moment I realized how much smoke was being released from the car - I realized that my entire fucking life was out of my hands.
The cop was pretty fucking chill about everything. The blower of the night, however, was that he took away my precious-baby-bowl. Things could have gone a lot better, but I wouldn’t have wanted to enjoy that experience with anyone else but them. And I say enjoy because I seriously did enjoy it. Yoel and I were dying the entire time.
Yesterday night turned “Fedz tryna git us” into “Fedz tryna got us”… Lawl.
So I’ve spent the last few days phoneless, and I think they’ve done some good. I’ve spent a lot of time genuinely alone. Half the time I’m home I’m on the phone and the other time I’m on Facebook.
Commuting to work and home without someone to text or talk to is strangely something I haven’t really done much of. Spending hours on end without someone to talk to is honestly something I haven’t really done much of. And it’s putting me in this eerie mind space. Like I made a post about how I base myself off of the people around me.
And when I start thinking about SHIT without it’s purpose depending on the people around me then I get to some weird gritty introspection where I feel like I’m looking too deeply into my own eyes.
It freaks me out sometimes, because I genuinely go fucking insane when I’m home alone, not speaking to anyone, for a day. Spending days like this makes me feel like myself - but I’m fucking weird.
And listening to all of this Tyler the Creator / OFWGKTA isn’t making anything any better. Fuck these assholes that stole my phone.
OH! I’m 99.9% sure I’m going to St. John’s University. Which means I’ll be living in NY in less than 6 months! In less than 6 months, I’ll be a New York blogger… LAWL.
Most of the time my world encompasses what I perceive people think of me. Most of my thoughts circle around what people think about me in context to situations and in context of the people around them.
And through doing this all the time, I always forget I never tell people shit. Like I genuinely tell no one about anything. And I realize that I don’t care about anyone. Like an abnormally large amount of people in my life I could seriously do without. As a matter of fact, I was talking to my friend Fiona, and I caught myself saying I’d be AYE-OKAY if I moved away and never spoke to anyone I know now.
I cherish and appreciate every relationship I have but somewhere along the course of my small and young life, I decided I don’t like making emotional connections. Like deep-seated, genuine attachment. I almost can’t do it at all.
But my point is that I forget this. I look at everyone around me and they think I care so much, but I seriously don’t. And since all I ever think about is how much I think they think I love them (talking in circles), I forget I don’t.
I don’t know what I love. Or what I care about. Or what I take seriously.
Not religion. Not my family, really. Not my friends.
Everybody and everything is fucked up, and stupid, and unreliable. Why base yourself on something like that. But I’m just like and of everything and everyone else— so who the fuck am I to say anything.
And in some grand, supremely extravagant kind of way I feel like this plays into how I go about and seek fulfillment from relationships.
I loving getting to know people, I hate knowing people. I like the idea of people, I hate the reality of people. I like people feeling familiar with me, I hate people being familiar with me.
I was saying to Yoel the other day (and I really couldn’t believe I was saying this and meant it) that I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life with a woman a barely knew. Something about mystery and the unknown intrigue me.
Every day I grow more and more curious about what I’ll think about my teenage self once I’m an older and wiser adult and parent with teenage kids.