Thursday, April 17, 2014

The 90s called and they want me back.

I'm supposed to be writing a personal narrative for my English 2010 class right now or maybe writing a paper for my sociology 3200 class right now or maybe studying for my oceanography exam or maybe my intro to sociology exam which I both have on Friday but instead I am sitting here.

Staring.

And I just keep staring and staring and I decided if I have to write something, it might as well be my thoughts because writing a personal narrative with a theme and some deeper meaning is hell.

Literal. (just kidding, not literal, but literal) Hell.

I don't do deeper meaning, because let's be honest here. I kind of just
Throw it all out there.

There isn't any hidden meaning behind this shit. I pierced my ears on Monday and got four holes in my body and there wasn't a deeper meaning.

I was just bored and my friends told me I should and I thought

Why the fuck not?

So I did it. I went and paid $38.38 for four holes in my ears and I am happy about it.

I bought a box of chalk and my friend and I drew a massive space mural and used almost all the chalk (like we disintegrated that shit, man) and it was great and I'm pretty sure we inhaled too much of that chalk because next thing I knew there was butt selfies and twerking and a lot of creepy tunnels that happen to be around my campus that I didn't know about before and lots of thoughts of stealing golf carts and that's just sort of my life.

How do you put deeper meaning into that?

Maybe if I could swear in my personal narrative, I wouldn't hate it so much.

And I keep thinking maybe if I could use fragmented sentences I wouldn't hate it so much, either.

Fuck.

I just really like swear words, okay?

Sorry, but not really.

Sometimes I think I'm so shallow, it causes me pain and then I remember that I'm more real than most anyone else and everything becomes okay again.

I just don't want to write something that's flat and 2D and makes me seem like I'm trying to give deeper meaning to something that doesn't actually have deeper meaning at all.

I want to redye my hair soon to a brighter, more Ariel-esque red, but it's too soon for that.

My parents are probably going to be surprised I pierced my ears. They'll probably be surprised that I want to get another one, too.

People keep outbidding me on eBay and it's making me angry because all I want is a damn camera to take shitty pictures with, okay?

I went on a hike today to a concrete ruin and drew some graffiti and it didn't have a deeper meaning.


Why do art majors and English majors always want deeper meanings except for me?

"You out-hipster the hipsters." - What my friend told me the other day when I was complaining about how uncomfortable those stupid mason jar cups-with-the-straw make me.

God, the boy I like is adorable. Everytime he sends me a picture of him smiling, I probably die a little bit inside. And I just want to tell everyone but I feel like I'm way too annoying and I just want him to say he likes me so we can just be cute together and I just want him to hold my hand. Is that too much to ask?

I mean, I've only known him for two years and liked him since February.

Maybe that's not long enough.

I feel like I'm a really horrible time bomb that's been broken but is still ready to blow at any second.

I hate this goddamn personal narrative assignment. Someone come make up a story for me to write down so I don't have to tell one of my own.

1 comment:

  1. I know it's been a month, but I'm finally coming around to read this.

    And it's great. Like, really fantastic.

    I want to know how it turned out. I want to know what you're up to now. I want the deeper meaning (oh wait, no I don't).

    You do want to out-hipster the hipsters. And you are one of the realest, which I'm not sure is a word, but I wanted to use it to describe you anyway. Because that's what you are.

    And that part about being able to swear in your personal narrative sums everything up for me as well.

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