Juillet

Every summer I make a playlist. It's a ritualistic marking of the season for me. Last summer's playlist was Tom Milsom and Summer Camp and We Were Evergreen. Listening to the songs now fills me up with this weird nostalgia for missing people that were too far away and unrequited feelings and Izzes. Those aren't really great things to be nostalgic about, but I hear my old feelings whenever I listen to that playlist.

This summer, I made another playlist. It's all New Order and Gwen Stefani and The Strokes and Bon Iver. I listen to these songs now and hear possibilities of memories. I hear July, a month that isn't fully realized until it's over, for me. A month of staying up too late watching movies and missing people too much and reciting pretty poetry to no one in particular at the pool. It's been a really strange time for me. I guess you could say it's been a period of growth(???) but it mainly feels like the sort of putzing around that people do when they've graduated from college and don't know what to do with themselves just yet. I've started saying "yo" in public so I mean if that isn't a clear enough image for you. My summer playlist has been the background music to all of it and out of all of it, the lyric that's resonated me with me the most is Every man is happy until happiness is suddenly a goal. Like goddamn. 

And I guess that's it. The reason I've probably struggled each year with the month of July is because I'm expecting that letter in the mail that never comes, instead of just enjoying my time.

In any case, August is always lovely.

This Book Changed My Life

Exactly a year and three days ago, I started this blog with the intention of documenting my experiences with The Book: This Book Will Change Your Life. Things didn't exactly pan out as I'd anticipated; I got a bit sidetracked and eventually stopped completing the tasks and subsequently stopped cataloging it. Apparently my life changed just fine without the help of The Book.

I guess The Book has become something more abstract for me, not so much a list of things to do, but a gentle reminder to continue to do things that I wouldn't normally consider.  (Not to mention The Book had like a lot of things I couldn't complete like try porn star sex positions um not happening sorry.) I started out with The Book as a very different person; someone a lot more cautious of crowds and eager to stay home when mention of a party was made. Now I'm less cautious of crowds and I stick around the food tables at parties. In all seriousness, my life has changed in many ways within the past revolution around the sun, and while I'm still working towards the person I want to be, I'm happy with where my life is right now.

A short aside to Mr Hancock, the person that gave me The Book: Thank you. My first summer in New Jersey was a lonely one, and The Book consumed a lot of my boredom during the long stretch before school. Still now, in situations where I'm feeling nervous, I find myself thinking "Ah, what the hell." Also, still haven't met Snooki, but maybe I'll get lucky soon.

I ate so many brownies I think I might puke.

Okay, so it's the end of the school year (pretty much), which entails a lot of unwanted nostalgia for things that happened about two months ago, summer goals, and complete negligence of anything it takes to reach those goals. Basically, it's the time of year when I tell myself I'll get out of bed at seven every morning to run and end up just waking up at ten and eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch straight from the box as I watch last night's episode of Parks and Rec in my pajamas.

It's been a good year for me, and not in just that I've met great people and genuinely enjoyed the past twelve months of my existence, but I feel sort of old-twenties-songy? And it's almost this sick-to-my-stomach sweetness, like the kind you feel after you've eaten a shitload of baked goods. I don't really know how to deal with that feeling because I'm sad that it's ending. It's this weird fear that I'm not going to feel the same sort of happiness or smile the same way or have the same laugh lines or something. I like where I am right now and I'm worried that the next year will only disappoint.

It's like when you go to your favorite restaurant and every time you order the same dish because YOU KNOW this is the only dish for you. Nothing else will live up to this. But eventually your friend or whoever else you eat with convinces you to try something new and so you try that bruschetta or whatever that you've been eyeing, but not without hesitation, because your expectations are extraordinarily high. And it's the best thing you've ever had. And you wonder why you wasted the past three years only eating that panini thing when you could've been trying all these other wonderful things.

I'm not talking about food. But I clearly need more metaphors to describe my life than just food.

What I'm saying is I'm in this weird state where I want things to slow down. I want to be the person I am right now for a while. I want to stay here for a while and I want to hear my life from this month in a year from now when I listen to old songs. But I also know I'll be okay if I try that bruschetta. Mainly I want the literal sick-to-my-stomach feeling to go away because I actually ate about three brownies today and I'm paying for it now.

Note(s) for Future Reference

Use these notes for future reference. They will help you avoid things you regret/keep you up at night/make you shake your head and laugh in that all-knowing way.

1: Laughter is not an appropriate way to respond to compliments.

2: When you see that guy in a mask on Halloween and he says hello, run after him.

3: Take good care of your teeth. You’ll be happy you did later in life.

4: Do not keep crushing on the guy that barely talks to you. Just stop.

5: Start running and never stop.

6: Do more things that you temporarily regret. You’ll be happy you did them later.

7: Take Spanish. Seriously, what were you thinking with French?

8: Do not stay up at night obsessing over the fact that you pronounced polyamorous incorrectly. Really. You're the only one that noticed.

9: Never stop smiling at people. You never know when they’re getting a smile they didn’t think they needed.

10: Get really good at winking.

11: Document as much of your life as you can. It’s so nice to look back on things later.

12: Hindsight won’t always clear things up. Some things won’t ever make sense. It’s okay.

13: Do not burn your angsty art/writing/everything. There’s great importance in that angsty stuff that isn’t burdened by self-consciousness and semi-colons.

Lastly: Ignore all of this advice. Things turn out alright in the end. And who am I kidding, they make for good stories.

The Good Times Are Killing Me

Thoughts on dates 'n shit (not the fruity kind nor the romantic)
March 29: The first time I watched Fight Club and experienced the post-Fight Club phenomenon

May 12: The day we left Minot

May 17: The day we got to New Jersey

June 21: Moonrise Kingdom in Voorhees

July 7: The day I saw Coldplay

September 7: The  first day of seventh grade/the first day of eighth grade

October 13: First time in Manhattan

November 30: My second time to successfully finish Nanowrimo

December 13: The day I spent at the movies

January 1: The day I realized how short a year is

January 15: The day I was twenty feet away from my hero

January 17: The day I started writing a movie script with this guy

February 1: The day I remembered how much I hate the word February

March 18: The day I remembered how good running feels

April 1: The day I redefined home

Today:

3.18.13

Some days you just hear a really good song and it rocks your world.

Some days your nine year-old brother asks you what he should give his girlfriend, and you're like whaaaa?

Some days you have to spill out grand soliloquies detailing your recent epiphanies when no one is around and inadvertently burn your sandwich.

Some days are Mondays. And somehow, they kind of don't suck.

I cried in French today.

And not even because French "sounds like people trying to gargle marbles".

Today in my French class (which seemed like a romantic idea to take at the beginning of the year), someone made a remark that was worthy of a Texas bumper sticker. "I think everyone in America should be fluent in English." Mme La Prof* stopped her lesson on how to say our nationalities and ethnicities en français and gave a much needed lecture on such ignorant statements. It went something like this:
"I don't care what political party you align with, you could be the most conservative person in the world, or even on the opposite end of the spectrum, but we all need some empathy. When you see someone standing at McDonald's, struggling to get their order straight, with a heavy accent and a fresh citizenship, think twice before you start judging. You guys are complaining to me about how French people and Canadians discriminate against you when you travel to their homelands, yeah? Because you're not fluent in their tongue, are you? Things aren't so easy when you don't have the upper hand."
The class was silent, and the girl who made the remark was suddenly sheepish.
"Look, there are some countries where women are completely subjugated. You might not understand that because we live in a pretty progressive country, but there are countries where women don't get the opportunity to come to school like all of you." This struck a chord with me, as a huge enthusiast for women's rights, and moreover just fundamental human rights. "So they get the chance to come to this country, to work hard, not for themselves. They never had that primary or secondary education, no, they're here for their daughters. So that their daughters can go to high school, get a degree, find a career they're passionate about, and get married, if that's what they choose, because they want to. Not because they have to."
I cried in French today, and it wasn't even because of how much I hate conjugating verbs.

My mother's parents immigrated to America from Mexico. Neither of my grandparents had the opportunity to get a secondary education, as they were forced to work as child laborers. They came to the US just before my mother was born. I can never express how grateful I'll be to them for taking such a huge step for the sake of their daughter, and futhermore, their grandchildren. I guess that short little lecture woke me up a bit. I've always considered myself to be a feminist, but that small moment where we were all just listening to my teacher was profound for me. It solidified everything I believe in, and as Sylvia Plath might say, it touched a human string in the cat's cradle of my heart. It made me realize how lucky I am to have the things I have. I've never considered marriage, as it's not really a priority to me. I've never wanted kids, simply because I feel that sort of life would never equate to happiness for me. I've always thought of myself as a freethinker, but today I realized just what that meant. I have the opportunity to do the things I want-work hard in school, study the things I'm passionate about, become what I wish to be, and seek happiness (whatever that turns out to be). I have that opportunity and I'm not letting go of it. I just wish that everyone had that same chance to pursue their happiness.

And let the record show that by crying, I mean a few tears escaped. It was merely a physical reaction to an emotional stimulus.
Illustration credits to Nick Lu
*my teacher