- I sat around and watched a Netflix original documentary with my friends about Rockefeller and Carnegie, and discussed the viability of different presidential candidates during, because two of the current ones (Trump and Fiorina) were commenters during it.
When did we get so old? I remember sitting in one of our dorm rooms playing “We are the Champions,” drinking Martinelli’s mixed with Takka – because we didn’t have the resources to buy champagne at eighteen – when President Obama won his reelection. Now we’re all twenty one and in less than a month I can finally post a picture with Spencer with the caption, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been waiting an entire year to misquote this song.”
- I have an interview with the number one newspaper in Santa Barbara County next week.
I told one of my best friends and she said, “A newspaper? Do you want to be a journalist?” No, I don’t want to be a journalist. Except maybe. Because I don’t know what I want to be. Also, maybe I just want another job that doesn’t pay me, did you ever think of that Fridds? Because that’s exactly what I need, another responsibility on top of actually having a job, working in the RiVR lab, scribing in the parks, and working at the Women’s Clinic for Doctor’s Without Walls despite the fact that I don’t even want to be a doctor. No, none of that feels like enough, because apparently I also want to intern at the Independent.
Except, I’ve had this picture in my head for what my life is going to look like five years from now, and the first step in the story that I wrote for myself was writing for the Independent. I’ve only had one formula for my entire life so far, and it’s worked for pretty much everything I’ve done. Step one, be super talented and sell yourself well. Step two, get really, really lucky. There was one person in my life who got everything wrong except one scenario where he summed up how my life is and will be for the next twenty years: he asked me what I was going to do with my life, I told him I didn’t know; he took a good once over of me and said, “Whatever. You’ll be fine.”
- My house (and I) are currently at the pressed-for-time-and-also-broke level of I just stole toilet paper from campus
I don’t even think I have very much commentary on this one, except for one ply is better than no ply.
- The woman who makes the most money annually in the office I work in is currently playing Hotlline Bling
She makes a lot of money. I would love to be able to have her job someday, but I am not nearly personable or high energy as she is. She’s also one of the friendliest people I’ve ever met, and always takes time to talk to the student assistants even when she’s running out the door, late to meet donors with the kind of money to get STEM buildings named after them. She also just brought a growler into work. Working in this office has proved to be one of the most fruitful work experiences I’ve ever had. Plus, there’s an arrowhead water cooler that I can constantly refill my HydroFlask with, and the Buchannan coffee cart is down one flight of stairs to the right.
- Getting trashed with Gorty on Thursdays has become a weekly tradition
We try to get ONE beer at Pizza my Heart or ONE drink at Study Hall and the next thing I know we’re drunk. I keep getting asked why we do each other so many favors or why I ever lend him money when I know I won’t get it back, and it’s because he saved our lives. Not potentially, not maybe. Actually. I wanted to go to IV Deli. He wanted to go to K&B. So we went to K&B, and because of that, we weren’t in front of IV Deli at 9:42 on May 23rd, 2014. Instead, we were inside Keg & Bottle at 9:45 when the police came by telling them to shut the doors and move away from the windows, people had been shot on Pardall. And so I lend him money when he needs it, and we get drunk together every week.
- I’m going to dye my hair again, and I lost my nose stud over Halloween
So now I have a hoop that my boyfriend hates and that I love, and I think I’m going to keep it. And I’m going to bleach my hair and dye it cool colors because I can. And I have spent so many months of the last two years both trying to emulate and contrast myself so much that I’m stuck in a cycle of doing things deemed edgy and also cutting carbs. Ugh.