To all of the party rookies.

Dear children applying to colleges:

You are a novice at partying. Do no deny this, but after the hot mess of an evening I witnessed, AKA March 12, 2010, I am most definitely inclined to write this blog post about all of the no-no's that I witnessed that evening. Partying is nothing like it is in the movies, it is far from that iconic (ironic) Asher Roth song. It will never be anything like you saw on The Cobrasnake (if anyone even still looks on that site at all... he is shooting at pre-teen b-day parties now, apparently), parties will never be like a Ke$ha song. In fact, parties have undeclared rules. I would like to provide you with some words of wisdom before you go on and make a fool of yourself your first year of college. You do not want to cross anyone who throws parties, you will suffer the consequences.

Rule #1: There is no such thing as "Free Beer"
You heard me right. This is just untrue. Do not assume that you can walk into a house without money or your own 6 pack to have a good time. Always carry around $10 if you decide to go out. That way, you can have a little booze, and maybe a few extra bucks in case if you have a hankering for a Fourth Meal at Taco Bell.
The person hosting the party will find out that you are raiding their pantry, and they will seek revenge on you. Oh, you know,like maybe find your keys and hide them in the cushions of the couch so that you spend a half hour trying to find them when you want to leave...

Rule #2: Just because someone gives you access to their drinks doesn't mean your friend can have some, too.
This is the sign of the ultimate dipshit. It's cool you are making a new friend with someone nice enough to offer you one of their Blue Moon's, but that does not mean that you can go back and take another one for your friend Taylor. "Hey, want a beer?" never translates to, "My box of booze is free reign- take as many as you would like!" Think about it, if you were the one offering a beer, wouldn't you be ticked off if the person you offered was overmooching after talking to you for less than ten minutes? That's what I thought.

Rule #3: Know your limits
Puking on the steps of the front porch is never classy. You don't want to be that kid who can't make it out of the door without having your friend sling you over their shoulder so that you can make it home- that is just embarrassing on your behalf. Always start out slow, you don't have to show for anything just because you can drink 10 beers in two hours (ouch!).

Rule #4: Do not be a scavenger
I am unfortunately guilty of this. A scavenger is someone who picks up random cans or cups, and tries to drink any of the remaining drops. Hey! There might be a little bit of a treat left over! This not only looks unfortunate to the outside observer, but this is how The Herp, Swine Flu, and Mono spread. Well, aside from rando-makeout-sesh's... Boy, am I lucky to have not contracted anything from that really sad night...

Rule #5: Always know where your friends are
Don't get left behind. It is just plain sad to see when a party is cleared out, and there is the lone soul sitting on a couch, drunk out of their mind, wailing, "Rachel is in the bathroom! I am waiting for her to come out!" only to hear someone say, Shit- Rachel left an hour ago!


That is all I have to say for now. I will update with anything new after the next shit storm I attend.

Hej hej,

Any

It's okay.

It's not a big deal.
It's not like you know my deepest, darkest feelings.
Like, how I have wanted to die for being so fat.
Like, how I have cried for feeling unloved and lonely.
Like, how I have admitted to you that I have internet friends.
You have told me that you are there for me whenever I need you.
You have told me that I am such a good friend to you.
You betcha, I am.
It's not a big deal.
It's not like we have really hung out before.
Think about it. We really don't.
We never really did.
But we sure know a lot about each other.
It's okay.
It's not a big deal.

I'll see you never.

Being you want it that way.
Flake.


Hej hej,

Any

It's [not] always sunny in Seattle

It is a glorious day in Seattle. Absolute sunshine.

My nose is plugged.
My head is inflated.
My throat is being scraped with sandpaper.

I feel like a champ. Thank god I don't have the chills anymore.

Looks like it was just a bunch of anxiety catching up with me.

Hej hej,

Any

Found.

Found this puppy hiding in a notebook-

Hello there-
Back of a once
chocolate wrapper
turned letter.
If only I had the
emotions to feel
and realize this
illusion.
To write something
great (whatever
great is in this
illusion).
Let go?
Let it be?
Let it live?
Let it transcend?
Who knows?
Not I-
But being.

Hej hej,

Any

This certainly isn't the time.

I should be editing my pieces for the newspaper right now. But, again, even though I am in the time crunch, I can't bring myself to find the appropriate words/ have what they are looking for. Writing for a newspaper was not as easy as I had imagined it was going to be. Thank Moses we are only a weekly newspaper. If it were any more than that, oh my wordywords, I don't know what would be going on for me.

Anyway.

I am actually doing things with my life now. Aside from crew. It feels good to not being a slave to something. Though I kinda wish I was a slave to a job so that I had money.

I am kinda sick of wanting to listen to something fresh but I don't want to search for fresh beats. I need to first off stop listening to the Disney kids. Though that is impossible because there are hundreds of thousands of hours of research put into those songs they release and they formulate the perfect songs so that you like them and that you become addicted to listening to them, over and over and over again until your roommate wants to kill you and yell, "CUT THAT SHIT OUT, GOD DAMN!"
Though, dearest roommate hasn't said that. But I am sure other roommates in the world have said that. I am actually sure of it.

Hmm. I realized that I use my left hand more than my right hand when it comes to typing. A lot of the common letters are arranged on the left side of the keyboard... curious... curious indeed. I think that is weird, being that this is a completely right handed world, yet we have to train ourselves to use the left hand to a crazy level if we want to type well. Ah- you never noticed this before. Now, whenever you type you will then think your left hand is getting a lot more tired (or that your right hand is growing bored due to the lack of activity that is called for it).


TTFN- I must finish this shit up. Busy morning.

Hej hej,

Any

A lost letter to a lost friend

We have now re-connected in an odd, odd way. Hopefully we'll keep in touch some other way than what we are currently doing right now. Here is a letter that I never mailed out several months ago:

11 November, 2009

Dearest T-----r,

I write this letter from the Starbucks across from B--------- Hall- no drink at my side, as I am unable to afford even a tall drip coffee. I am relying heavily on my Bon A---- meal plan to get me by until Christmas. It's a little wet outside today- no crazy flood-rain. Just a sprinkle here or there. It's sad out there- it wants you to come back and greet the city with open arms and sunshine.

So- I should have written to you sooner. But, you're lucky I am writing to you at all. See, I am a woman filled with a lot of false promises, smiles, charm, sass, and glitter. Yes, glitter. Almost as much as Paddy Wolf! Anyway- about the false promises, it is true. I told many friends that I would write them last year, and I never followed through on this vow to keep in touch. You are the first person that I have written to that is not a family member... are you feeling special? Now I am just getting cocky- I really need to stop that...

I have not attended one concert since being here in S------. It's been a quiet Fall Quarter. But, I am loving every minute of it up here. Coffee shops are my new form of entertainment. I haven't met my prince charming (though I have witnessed many show stoppers) or written anything truly inspiring ( I am a failure of a writing major). these are things that I am adamant about accomplishing this year (that sentence sounds terribly awkward...).

One of these days... wait- where was I going with this? I feel like this letter is awfully organized. I am going to now fill it with questions for you to answer so that I can expect a letter back from you (woohoo! Everyone loves to get mail).

So: How are you? Right this moment- cold? Happy? Inspired? Have you read nything xceptionally interesting lately? Written any poems that blew your heart and mind? Are you getting enough sleep? Is your family doing well? Any television shows I should become addicted to over Christmas Break? Are you going anywhere interesting for your Winter Break?

Oh, boy- I have provided a lot of questions- pardon me... well, I am genuinely interested to hear back from you!

-------

Obviously not, since I never mailed them the letter. Well- there you go- I am sending them their many months due letter, and allowing all 2 billion internet users to read.

Hej hej,

Any

Way to unstart the New Year (another pure confession).

I promised myself to start off my New Year right. Well, I haven't. I am ill. Gluttonous. I feel absolutely sickened with myself- licking the chocolate from the corners of my mouth... washing it down with a glass of Ovaltine. Wrong. So wrong. I can't say no- why can't I say no? Because it is delicious? Because I am afraid I won't be able to experience the sweetness ever again? I recently read an article that a friend of mine shared on her blog, and it said to stop being a procrastinator of pleasure. Well, I embraced those words. They are going to be my words to think about for the next decade...
but this whole eating thing- eating is supposed to be a pleasure. I find it awful that by me eating, I take no pleasure in the activity. I am constantly grazing. Right now I feel like I should be doubled over with my face in the toilet. I have consumed more chocolate than a poor child in a third world will ever have in their lifetime (if they are lucky) in one day. The more I mull over this, the more I want to puke, the more I feel upset with my decisions. And I hope I vomit because I deserve it.

Now it won't happen, and I'll have to sleep away my tummy ache.

I know I can do it. I know I can find a pleasure in not over- what would I call it? It isn't indulging. Indulging is a pleasant word, and with the state I am always in, it is never an indulgence. It is a living misery. I think this is an internal cry for help.

For those that know me, I don't know how you are going to take this, but bear with me. This addiction is bad. I need slaps on a wrist. I am like a drug user. Don't be afraid to tell me no. Help. I want help so bad- I want the rest of this year to feel much better than I do now.

I have to nurse my stomach ache.

Hej hej,

Any