Wikipedia

Ugh

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Ugh is an onomatopoeic representation of an aspirated sigh or gasp, used as an interjection to express disgust, horror, repugnance, annoyance, boredom, or tiredness.

Other forms include urgh, ungh and ergh.

I love Wikipedia.

Judgment

I'm pretty sure I judge people too immediately, and I'd like to stop, but I'm not sure if I'm capable.  Example: I'm taking Ethics, and almost my immediate opinion of my professor was that he looked like the kind of guy involved with another woman even though he's married.  I'm not really sure why, it was just sort of a vague suspicion that formed in my mind.

I did change my opinion of him when he started to talk.  He's brilliant, and very funny.  I'm really going to like that class, even though I'll get all scrambled in my brain.  Plus, a few people I know are in there, which is incredibly helpful for me.  More community = less stress.  Or maybe I talk too much.  

Nah.

I love my apartment.  I don't have a bed yet, but I'm not really that picky about sleeping stuff.  At camp we frequently sleep on the ground, and I mean that literally.  So really, a mattress pad, plush carpet, and a big fluffy blanket is cozy.  It's like a midden or something.

That's kind of gross, but I suspect I might be kind of a gross person sometimes.  Example: when I'm laying on my floor I'm opposite my closet, which is open at all times, and the way it looks, well...I think I know how gynecologists feel.  It looks dark and scary in there.

Spooky.

I just had a thought (and I quote) "Let's find the bad kisser gene and eliminate it from the DNA of our species".  I'm sure my bio friends could phrase this more accurately, but yeah, I think maybe I'm fucked up today.  Just a little bit.  

I really hope we (Allyson and I, and maybe J I guess he's lame but sorta nice I guess =P) get to go to Richmond this weekend so I can return that freaking American Apparel dress.  I want my impulsive $30 back.  So I can buy more stuff, of course.

Okay, this seems like it'll take forever to read and longer to understand, so I'm outtie 5000.

Labels for this post: gross, morbid, impulse buys

Promises

I think I must be really bored today, because my thinking is very clear, which means there isn't enough stuff in my brain yet. I'm not too worried - I'm going to need that extra storage when school starts up next week.

Wait, next week?
Jeez...

Anyway, I was thinking about promises lately. Ever since I lilted into romantic interest, I've always been very skeptical about them. Several of my ex-boyfriends, or people I had dated (to be accurate) have asked me at one point or other to promise ridiculously romantic and therefore impossible things.
"Promise you'll never hurt me." Classic.
Of course that's not true. That doesn't mean you're a bad girlfriend, it means you're being realistic. Once you get comfortable with someone, it's much easier to overlook their positive qualities and focus on the negative ones, which promotes nitpicking, which gets under your skin and ultimately hurts.

Solution: "Try not to be an ass, please. I'm specifically asking you not to."
See, this way you encourage an open bond with whomever because you don't have such a strict restriction over your head, and ultimately, you have to be honest. You don't have to be harsh or overly hurtful to make your point. There's a difference.
One of my ex-boyfriends wouldn't believe that. But then again, he believes in the Loch Ness Monster over Jesus Christ. Hmmm.

You know, the only time I was ever completely truthful about everything I was feeling and in my life, I was called a mind whore. Not to my face, of course.
What a waste of time. It still makes me angry, but then again, I can eat the same whole wheat grudge sandwich every day without getting tired of it.

I know, it's really good. Really good.

Labels for this post: premature, immature, Nessie

Practical vs Impractical

As much as I love Cindy Chupack, I was kind-of mad when she wrote that she sometimes feels as though adopting a child is a white flag of surrender. I disagree. Raising a child at all is not an act of surrender. You don't need a boyfriend or husband to have a child, and that's an amazing testament to women's empowerment. I fully plan on adopting a little Asian girl with or without a husband, mainly because I like to rebel against societal norms, or promote better ones.

Okay, I am done being a feminist. For now.

I don't really have much to add after that tirade, which is probably a really bad sign. I was going to write about how certain things are practical (a $60 Marc Jacobs bag) whereas other things are impractical (a $60 Vera Bradley bag).
But when I was thinking about adopting a daughter, I realized that no matter how much I profess to love handbags, shoes, dresses, and makeup, any and all of those things will forever be impractical, but I don't mind.

Maybe not shoes.
Yeah, let's go with that.

Labels for this post: feminist, sorry, everyone

Omnia vincit no mour

So, I'm in writing mode right now, and I'm updating all written sources of information in my life. It's like, 3am.

What?

Anyway, I want to write a letter to Jake, that guy who writes that Jake column for Glamour. I read Glamour pretty religiously, and most especially his writing - not only is he a great writer, but I feel this undercurrent of being torn up.

Jake,

As a religiously Glamour-ous girl, I adore your column. I think you're funny, charming, and probably pretty cute. I'm sure you get this all the time, so maybe I should talk about something with substance. Because, you know, you're a ghost.
If I could meet you, I would probably regale you with mostly obnoxious questions, like "Is a guy going to dismiss me if I admit to liking trashy daytime television?" or "Instead of asking where things are, I just make the motion (think scissors) and wander around. Is that weird?" You don't have to answer these questions - I'll figure them out with time.
There are questions that I believe everyone asks of themselves at one point or other in their lifetimes, one of which is "What is going on?" and the other "Why not me?" In this case, I think perhaps we both fall under the "Why not me?" file.
Now I'm going to do that stereotypical anecdote about a past love that really changed me - my views of myself and my perceptions of the world. It was everything I thought I had ever wanted in a future, but more than I had thought. I absolutely loved him, my unofficial fiance, my Super Mario Bro. I believed that he was the Forever Kind, and he encouraged me.
As these stories often go, things fell apart, and after two years of promises, ring shopping, video games, late-night phone calls, spaghetti, and arguments, he ended it. It crushed me, probably more than I could tell you in words. The clarity of the heartbreak, and the heartbreaking clarity opened my eyes when I read your article about heartbreak. I cried. A lot.
If you were any other male columnist, I would unleash a flood of angry questions upon you about my ex's behavior. (By the way, I just want to say that he left me for a younger woman - and I'm 21 years old.) But I have a feeling that you're not like the people I've met from the way you write. You notice and appreciate subtlety, which is rare. I think maybe the word I want is 'genteel' but it just sounds too creepy. I also feel (no offense) that when you write those humorous quips about other people and analyze their relationships, something is off. The only way I know to compare it is by using a perspective analogy; it's like you're describing something far away but looking at the things which are close by.
Now that I've thoroughly offended you, I want to apologize. I want to tell you that everything will work out, that love conquers all, that it will get easier. But I just don't believe it's that simple. Omnia vincit no mour. The most important tools for me are time, reflection, and fabulous shoes.
Be brave.

Jenni Schweitzer

P.S. Don't worry - you're still funny.

Labels for this post: I'm, too, tired

Phrases and Ideas

I feel like I always get my best ideas (and therefore my best phrases) when I am somewhere without access to a computer or writing materials. They almost always pass quickly, too, so that I can't really remember what it was. I might remember the subject, but it will be something vague, like "Relationships".
Way to narrow it down, right?

Sometimes I can't decide if I'd rather write about fashion or relationships. In my opinion, they're not really that different. The key to both is maintaining confidence and asserting your identity, then finding something or someone who can handle it (or who can try).
I think I must be the stubbornest person alive. Even though I've been crushed by other people's ignorance or cruelty, I have never lost sight of who I am and what it means to me to have that. I think the proper metaphor here is "weed".
I'm also fantastically disorganized, except with my closet. I have the best priorities. I am aware of this.
In case you were curious as to whether or not my Facebook status is serious, yes, I'm keeping a jar of change for a pair of Christian Louboutin shoes.


Who needs boys when there are shoes like this?

Labels for this post: inopportune, priority, shoegasm