When I grow up...

...I'm going to live in a small, comfortable flat in the south of England. Glastonbury, maybe, or Bristol. I haven't decided yet. I'm going to have a job that pays enough for me to live comfortably in this comfortable little flat, possibly in a pub or a nice bookstore. Somewhere I can converse with regular, familiar faces and still have plenty of opportunities to meet new ones. I'm going to share this little flat with someone I love, be it roommate or lover, and we will be happy.

This person is going to love me back, because I am tired of one-way relationships. I have a history of finding my way into relationships (not necessarily of the romantic variety) with individuals who want something from me that I blindly give without asking for anything in return. Lately, it's been sex. I fall for men who want sex without the 'burden' of a relationship. I just want to find someone who doesn't find me completely useless that I can call my own. Is it so old-fashioned to want a monogamous relationship with someone I care about? Apparently, yes. FML.

Once Upon A Time...

At the risk of sounding like a silly little girl, I will say this: Boys are stupid. They turn girls into mushy, emotional pudding. With crazy sprinkles. In this mushy pudding state I am consistently unsure of where I stand with the object of my affection.

Young, impressionable and insecure teenage girls

Hollywood taught me that sex was this beautiful, perfect thing that happened when a man and a woman fell in love and they lived happily ever after. It was always going to be between two beautiful, perfect people with beautiful, perfect bodies. There were always going to be candles and silk sheets and the whole thing would be beautifully, perfectly choreographed and in slow motion while only the most appropriate song plays in the background. After that there would always be cuddling and vows of everlasting love, and in that moment the world was right and just and wonderful.

I blame Hollywood for my disappointment in the real world. Not that either of the men I have been intimate with have been disappointing in bed themselves, I just mean that it was nothing like I was expecting. There was never any whirlwind romance that led to those moments, and there were certainly no promises to love each other forever after. I know I can't blame Hollywood completely, I do just pick terrible men to have sex with. Luckily there have only been two and I'm going to do my very best to use what I have learned from those experiences to prepare me for next time. If there ever is one.

Just Crazy Enough pt.4

Some days the crazy bubbles and boils inside to the point of overflowing, and it's not a pretty sight when it does.

This morning I was talking to my dad about plans to go to the market yesterday that had been canceled, and he asked a very simple question for which I did not have a satisfactory answer. It's not that he needed anything concrete, he was just curious, but I have been kicking myself all day for being so blind as to not see what I probably should have a while ago.

My history with the opposite sex is a short one, and yet still full of regrets. After the aforementioned conversation with my father this morning it has come to my attention that every man I have been involved with has not been happy to have just me. I wasn't enough for any of them and you know what? That really hurts. I like to think I'm a decent enough person, I do what I can to be kind and considerate and I should have some seriously good karma coming my way. I'm not drop dead gorgeous, but I'm not completely hideous either (I hope). I'd say I'm rather plain looking, but I'm learning to be okay with that. Given the chance, I could be a generous lover, but I seem to only attract men who want me.... and her, her, and her.

It doesn't work that way, sweetie.

To be clear, I'm not saying there is a certain gentleman in my life at the moment who feels the same way as they all have, I'm just saying this revelation has been a painful one that will more than likely affect my choices in the future. Well, someone would have to want me first.

Here we go again

These random bursts of anger/depression need to stop. I'm beginning to think there's something (new) wrong with me.


I woke up real late this morning because I spent the night at Rachel's. Last night was her birthday party, so a few friends gathered at her new apartment for drinks and shenanigans, and as usual it was a lot of fun! When we eventually got up today she made me macaweenie for breakfast, followed by mint chocolate chip ice cream... You can see why I'm struggling with this diet thing.
After Rachel dropped me back home, I changed out of my cute dress from the night before (which I had slept in) and into something a little more appropriate for walking to the store. I only really went to get some of that amazing orange pineapple peach juice I love so much, but ended up in the vitamin aisle again. I hate buying diet pills at the store, I feel like people are judging me as I kneel by the shelves to compare shiny promises of a flatter tummy and a smaller ass, or as I approach the counter with my latest finds. I don't know if I feel worse when I see the woman with her basket full of junk food eye me up like I'm a bitch for rubbing it in that I'm half her size and still unhappy, or the skinny chick who looks at me with disgust because I'm twice her size and could use all the help I can get. Either way I leave the store disgusted with myself. I usually get home wanting to down an entire pint or two of ice cream for comfort because it would make me feel better for a short period of time, but I'd hate myself even more in the long run.
Today I opted for a healthier dietary supplement. No 'miracle' or crazy crash dieting, thanks. This time I picked up a bottle of SlimQuick™ Ultra Fat Burner caplets, because it's a brand designed to address the six main issues women have when trying to lose weight. It was made for women by specialists that understand that women generally have a harder time trying to lose weight, so they came up with these awesome little pills to help a girl out. They also have a great website where I can track my exercises and meals and work toward my goal, as well as give and receive support from other women online! My fingers are actually crossed this time.

Defeat was not an option...

... But apparently no one told him that. Now as my punishment for losing, I have to do whatever he says for three days. THREE DAYS. I don't know what he's going to make me do, but it's going to be interesting. It's not that I don't trust him, of course I do, I just have no idea what is in store for me. It could be terrifying... Or it could be wonderful...
Here's hoping for the latter!


Anyway, after stuffing my face both on and off stage yesterday, apparently I thought it would be a good idea to go to a friend's house and celebrate another friend's birthday with copious amounts of alcohol. At least no one could say I drank on an empty stomach this time, right?
My body did not love me today. After sneaking out this morning in hopes that fresh air and light exercise would help ease the knot in my stomach (it didn't, it only got worse as I walked home), I spent the entire day sprawled across the couch. Food helped a little bit, but not much. I'm still feeling a little off, but I'm about to crawl into bed so hopefully I'll be bright and shiny in the morning! I just hope it's not a bug. I don't think it's a hangover because it doesn't feel like the one I had the last time I drank at this same friend's house... That was an interesting night. Or at least I'm sure it would be if I could remember it.

Trek in the Park

Trek in the Park today with Rachel in NE Portland! I'm gonna wear my red Expendable t-shirt, at least at this show people will get the reference!


It has come to my attention that far too many of the people I associate with are Star Trek fans for me to NOT watch the damn thing, so I guess I'm just going to have to start. I used to watch it when I was younger, and I know I've seen most if not every episode of Enterprise, so I'm not a TOTAL n00b, but I'm still fairly unfamiliar with the majority of the series. I guess it's time to fix that!

The Hollywood 48-Hour Miracle Diet™: Day Two

I waited an extra day to post my results:
I gained four pounds.

The Hollywood 48-Hour Miracle Diet™: Day One

Wandering the aisles of Rite Aide, I've been known to stop in the health/fitness section on occasion and gaze longingly at the trim, beautiful bodies of the women advertising the diet supplements and appetite suppressors. As a young, impressionable and insecure teenage girl (thank you, Jon Lajoie for that embarrassingly accurate description. I love you) I have always been intrigued by the allure of so-called "miracle diets" or well, any diet that promises to shed pounds off my ass and boost my confidence in a bikini, but I've never seriously tried one because while I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, I'm smart enough to know bullshit when I see it. Plus, just because they put "results based on sensible diet and exercise" really tiny on the bottom of the box doesn't mean no one catches on that it's not really that much of a miracle if you end up losing weight doing what any other person would be to achieve the same goal. Today however, I gave in to my curiosity and picked up a bottle of the Hollywood 48-Hour Miracle Diet™ because I had to see for myself if I could really lose "up to 10 pounds in just 48 hours!" or whatever gimmick they're selling to make a profit off of women with little to no self esteem. The best bit is that the disclaimer on the bottom of this bottle is a little different in stating, "Weight loss based on fasting and moderate exercise. Individual results may vary." It also says a little ways above that, "IMPORTANT: For best results do not consume food, alcohol, caffeine or tobacco while on the Hollywood 48-Hour Miracle Diet™" FASTING. Wait, so if I do this, I'm losing weight because I'm not eating? Funny, that.

Anyway, I decided to give this stupid thing a go. I'll post this now because I started today, and I'll probably post again the day after tomorrow or whenever I am officially done. Worst case scenario: I've lost $21 on a stupid gimmick that I already hated. Best case scenario: I lose ten pounds and kick-start the weight loss that should have been happening with my current diet/exercise program (which slowed down or stopped all together for some reason after last week. I haven't lost a pound since). I'm following the instructions carefully: "Day one - 4 oz. HMD™ mixed with 4 oz. water, sip for 4 hours. Repeat three times. Day two - Same. Also, drink 8 glasses of water each day." So... I'm drinking watery fruit juice concentrate that tastes like medicine, and drinking the recommended daily amount of water that i should be drinking anyway? Yeah, I spent $21 on this bullshit. To keep me motivated, however, I drew a little sunshiney smiley face on my first glass of Hollywood gimmick. He's all optimistic and shit:


Boy says it's just an expensive laxative, which may very well be true. Bless your heart, sweet Boy. I love you for looking after me. I know you care, but I'll be fine. You can rub in all the I Told You So's you want in about 43 hours from now! Who knows, maybe I'll be saying it to you? Yeah, right.

Just Crazy Enough pt.3

Okay, so maybe sex hasn't had an entirely negative impact on my life. Yes, some of my decisions in that department have resulted in my own pain, but Tuesday as I walked into town in search of a sexy little number it struck me that while I may have suffered a significant blow to my self esteem after a foolish fling (apparently two years my junior is far too young and far too immature for me), I have also noticed a significant improvement in other areas.
I've had body issues for as long as I can remember. For years I told myself and others that I didn't, and that anyone that did was foolish for not just loving themselves, because I was born into a world where it's never good enough to just come as you are. These issues have grown in the last year or so, and I'm becoming more and more aware that I cannot hide from them forever.
In a strange twist, intimacy has helped me to become more comfortable with other people. For example, just last weekend I found myself pants-less in a friend's apartment (nothing sexual, they were in the dryer and we were playing Mario Kart) and I thought it was funny how easy it was to forget about it and enjoy what we were doing, considering last year I would never have been able to do that. It's not that I'm any more comfortable with my body now than I was then, I just seem to find it easier not to worry about it.

I am woman, hear me roar

Damn I'm good. I am simultaneously working out, cleaning my room and looking for a new job. And nursing a killer headache. And blogging about it.

Multi-tasking. It's what women do, right? If I had a boyfriend, I'd be making him a sandwich, too. Ooh, see what I did there? It's funny because it's sexist, assuming that a woman's proper place is in the kitchen!

Anyway, I've had this headache for the past three or four hours now and I just can't seem to shake it. I've taken more than the recommended dosage of Ibuprofen, so I'll give it another hour and if it's still bothering me I'll see if I can't find some Acetaminophen as well.

I don't want to find a new job, but the one I have doesn't pay very well, especially since they cut the hostesses' hours, and it's a pain in the ass to catch the train all the way out there and back. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, and the people I work with, but minimum wage for about 4-10 hours a week is never going to buy me a plane ticket, afford a flat in Bath/Bristol (still undecided) and pay my tuition next year. I'll miss the Venetian, but I'd be back for their delicious chicken pot pie soup. And possibly Bag & Baggage work, but mainly the soup.
Anyway, before I start drooling about soup, I am applying for a couple of jobs closer to home, like Borders, Blockbuster, and Pet Smart, all of which are within walking distance of my house. This way I'm not spending money on the train or bus every day. I really hope I get a job at Borders! It's one of my favorite stores. I love to go in and just browse the bookshelves for hours and hours. I spend far too much money in there when I do, though... A lot of the time on Doctor Who or zombie apocalypse materials! I can nerd out in there and no one can judge me. And when I find something really good, I love to sit in the Seattle's Best inside and read with a giant chai latte. Mmmm...

What was I saying?

I won't go down without a fight

It has come to my attention recently that I have had a couple of unexpected visitors here reading my public ramblings, and while I am flattered by your interest, I would like to make it clear that I shall not be apologizing for anything that I have written, am currently writing, or will ever write in the future. I write what I feel, and I keep it simple and honest. If anyone feels the need to read further into anything I post here, I applaud your imagination, but there is no hidden meaning or innuendo between the lines because I believe in being blunt and there isn't a whole lot that pisses me off more than beating around the proverbial bush.
I also don't appreciate this assumption that I cannot make mature decisions for myself, or that I would not be capable of dealing with the consequences. I have made questionable decisions in the past and have been hurt because of them, but if I could turn back time I wouldn't change a thing because I have grown and learned from every one. I have handled every situation maturely because I'm not a child anymore. Please, if anyone feels that they know what's best for me and want to tell me of any mistakes I may be making, come to me first. Sneaking around behind my back, especially in affairs that don't concern you, is high school stuff. Even I can recognize that it is immature, and apparently I'm just a "girl".
I will make the decisions I choose to make, I will interact with whomever I decide to befriend and I will be whoever the fuck I turn out to be because of that. I am in control.

Happy Days

Today I have happier news to report than I have been of late. No whiny vagina post today, my friend! Unfortunately I cannot divulge the details because I made a promise (so this post may not make much sense), but I have had a spring in my step since I woke up this morning, regardless of the grey clouds and fat rain drops splashing on the windows. Maybe it's just sleep deprivation making me delusional (I'm going through another insomnia episode) but I'm pretty sure it's because I had my heart broken and then neatly mended last night. Good as new! As the gorgeous Marc Warren once said, "It's funny the things you think of with your shirt off..."*
I was having a bit of a rough night and Rachel suggested a hot shower and some hot chocolate to calm me down, but alas, I had no hot chocolate so I lit some candles and settled for a margarita and a bubble bath. Mmm... Anyway, I felt better almost instantly and had a bit of a think as I soaked and I realized something that should have been clear to me from the start: If I really want to know something, why don't I just ask? So I did. The results were unexpected but welcome. And I mean very welcome. So much so that I've been smiling non-stop all day. I didn't even let it bother me when Tracy insulted me. Again. (I don't think he means it, but for fuck's sake man, I will kill you)

Before I sign off, I'd like to take a moment to wish my daddy a very special, very happy Father's Day. I know he knows it already, but sometimes I forget to say thank you when I am grateful for the things he does for me and puts up with, and sometimes I forget to say "I love you" just because, but that doesn't make it any less true. I love my daddy. I couldn't have asked for anyone more patient, loving and kind in my life, especally with the shit I put him through. He really has given me all he could possibly give me, and then some, and I hope he knows how much I truly appreciate it.
And to my biological father, may he rest in peace: I'm sorry we never had the chance to meet, I hear some pretty cool things about you and I'm sure we would have gotten on well given the opportunity. I have a lot of questions I would have loved to ask you, and I hope you understood that I could never be mad at you for what you did in the past (even if I do think it was kind of shitty) because everything turned out for the best! You had your beautiful family and I have mine. I could almost thank you if it hadn't hurt my mother, but we're both over it now and very happy with the way everything turned out. RIP.
And finally, to all the fathers out there: Today is a day to celebrate all the love and happiness that you have brought to your family, so spend it with the ones you love. Happy Father's Day.
x

*Gold star to the first one to get that one ;)

What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy"

*There's a reference in that there title. Ten points to he/she who gets it - no cheating!*

Contrary to popular belief, I do not, in fact, hate men. I quite like some of them, actually. As long as there are no romantic or sexual feelings involved, I sometimes even get on better with men than I do women because I am not easily offended by their sexist jokes (I make a few of them myself) and I know how to be one of the boys. My favorite boy at the moment is my good friend Eric. Eric is going to fix me, I just know it. Although there are some romantic feelings mixed in there (I want him to make the first move, I'd die if I tried and he shot me down), I see him as one of my best boy friends because I can tell him absolutely anything and he never judges or laughs at me. One night on the train home, I found myself telling him personal things that I'd done in the past that I've never told anyone before, and he sympathized and I knew it was going to be okay. We get on so well because we have a lot in common and we can just relax around each other. Also, he keeps me safe on those late night train rides home because he knows I can't say no to the weirdos that try and talk to me when all the sane people are safe in bed.
Recently he agreed to help me with some issues I've been having (read: Oh, every blog post so far?) by personally designing an exercise and diet program for me to follow that will allow me to lose between 15 and 20 lbs before my birthday. There's nothing particularly special about that deadline, I just think it works out nicely that this 8 week program will end around the same time as my birthday, so who knows, maybe I'll be able to wear a bikini that day and go to the beach! Anyway, I trust him completely with this task, he's probably the most qualified person I know who could do it, and I know he only has my best interests at heart. I really don't know what I did to deserve someone so kind and wonderful in my life.
On a less sappy, girly note, I'm excited to start this new program. Eric says it's going to seriously kick my ass, but the first two weeks will be the hardest, and after I get over that hump it will become more routine and easier to manage. He wants me to run up and down this hill though, and I'm really not sure I can do it. Running is one of those things I have never been able to do and never really want to anyway, like speaking German or driving a car. I have decided though, that if I can't manage the hill, I will just have to turn my early morning dog walks around the lake into early morning dog runs and see how that goes. I'm still going to end up with fucking shin splints though, so I may have to punch Eric... He wouldn't hit a girl back, would he?

Just Crazy Enough pt.2

6/1/10

Some days I can look back on 2010 so far and think, "Wow, I have grown so much! I knew I wanted this to be a year of change and exploration, and that's exactly what I got!" and other times, sitting on the train now, for example, I can look back in shame and cry about all the stupid shit I've done in the name of personal growth and exploration. I wanted to have all kinds of adventures, I wanted to take up any challenge thrown in my path, and I wanted to join in all the fun that everyone else seemed to be enjoying. Is that too much to ask of a single year? I got it, though. I got adventures and challenges and I have faced them with my head held high. Of course, I never expected to face the drama that came with them. I never was any good at planning ahead, considering the consequences or thinking before I acted.
On the rare occasions I do think about how my actions could affect myself or those around me, I tend to overestimate my ability to cope with the repercussions. My mantra seems to have unwittingly become "I'm a big girl now, I can take care of myself" and for the most part, I can. When I met the boy I gave my virginity to, I knew he wasn't good for me. He left is girlfriend to be my fuck buddy, even though I told him (and myself) that it was a rule of mine to never get involved with a man who would do that. What's to say he wouldn't turn around and do the same to me when he got bored? He totally did, by the way, which is why we are no longer together. Everyone told me it was a terrible idea, that he would get bored and leave once he had had his fill of me, but I told them I understood exactly what was going on and I would be able to walk away at any time. THAT'S SO NOT HOW IT HAPPENED! I had to go and be a "girl" and develop "feelings" which were quickly torn up and stomped on because he developed a "conscience". He's still adamant that that's not how it was, but I've forgiven him. It got messy for a while after the initial 'break-up' of sorts because I unleashed my crazy and made some stupid decisions, but we are back on friendly speaking terms, we just don't hang out nearly as much. Or fuck. We don't fuck anymore, which is probably what I miss the most.
Sex made me crazy.

Just Crazy Enough pt.1

This is the first installment of a series I hope to continue of the random shit that crosses my mind on the train ride home. I find myself alone on the train at least 5 days a week, a handful of which rides occur late at night, so I have a lot of time to poke through the crazy and form coherent sentences, which I then document as notes on my iPod. If I think they're coherent enough for public consumption, I'll post them up here.
I must warn you, Just Crazy Enough pt.1 starts the series off with a sort of grotesque bang, so those sensitive souls amongst you may want to just wait for the next installment.

5/29/10
I have a love/hate relationship with my vagina.I find myself both fascinated with and disgusted by it on almost a daily basis. There's just nothing sexy or even vaguely appealing about the vagina in general, and as a woman with little-to-no self esteem, I can honestly do without another unattractive feature on my body.
Both men and women around the world have tried to convince me of what a wonderful piece of art the vagina really is, but I am yet to see what could be so beautiful about that thing between my legs. To be honest, I'd love to see the delicate flower that it has been compared to, but I just don't. It's not that pretty, and in my experience it seems to bring nothing but drama! I fail to see where the fascination comes from, other than the curiosity of men who don't have their own to explore.
I find myself intrigued, however, because something so unappealing that manages to complicate so many things for me still has the power to also bring unspeakable pleasure. Of course, the pleasure is not always necessarily a welcome occurrence. Sometimes the desire for such pleasure just brings you back to my point about the drama and confusion. Maybe it's karma. I've done terrible things to my vagina in the name of "beauty". I have shaved, plucked, waxed and even sprayed myself with nasty chemicals because I hear that's what guys want. I hear they go crazy for that smooth feeling, but I don't know why I bother if no one knows what's down there. Two men have ever been allowed passage below my belt (and whom shall remain anonymous for privacy sake, though you know who you are), and have lived to tell the tale. I practically maimed the most vulnerable part of my body, and they both screwed me over in the end (no pun intended). Oh, vagina, you are a strange, impossible thing, and I (partially) blame you for my crazy.

Thanks for Coming, or not.

I've been reading this fantastic book recently to pass the time on my commutes to and from work and college, and I want to share what I have learned with whoever happens to read this measly blog.
In 2009, Mara Altman released Thanks For Coming, the funny, touching story of her quest for an orgasm. Despite having her share of notches in the bedpost, Mara had never reached climax in bed, and so she decided to share her journey through sex shows, conventions, even therapy to find what all the fuss was about. I stumbled across the book a couple of months ago in Borders while I was looking for a copy of the Kama Sutra, and after I found what I was looking for, I picked it up out of curiosity. I was in between books and thought it sounded interesting and somewhat relevant to my situation at the time, so I took my finds to the counter, and the man serving me gave me a look that could pass for "Hey baby, what are you up to tonight?" or "Oh, you're one of those girls," and fortunately/unfortunately his comment about enjoying the rest of my night as I turned to leave implied the former assessment to be true. He was creepy and I was afraid he'd ask exactly how I would be spending the rest of that night, but at least he didn't think I was a whore. Or maybe he did, and that's why he asked, but I choose to believe that's not true, that he was just being polite.
Since losing my virginity in February, I have noticed a drastic change in my beliefs of and attitudes towards sex. I've never been terribly prudish when it comes to my sexuality, and I don't remember ever having much of an aversion to talking openly about the issue with anyone if it came up in conversation. In fact, the morning after my first time, I straight up told my mother about it when she came to pick me up from the train after school. I told my dad later that night, which was more difficult because I couldn't gauge how he would react, but he took it well. They both were just happy that I waited until I was comfortable and felt safe, though I'm sure they would have much rather I'd waited until I was with someone I loved, or was at least in a relationship with. Fuck buddy is a relationship of sorts... right? So it wasn't the best decision I'd ever made! Shit, I'm only human. Besides, I'm going through a period of self-discovery right now, and if I have a little fun at the same time... Well, that's just a little extra icing on the cake.
Anyway, the point of this post was to explain that, for a long time now, I have been meaning to write something seriously. Whether it be a novel, non-fiction or fiction, I hadn't yet decided, but I wanted to produce something I could at least submit for publishing. At this point I don't even care if it does get published, just that I can see something through to the end, unlike my previous attempts at writing, which lay in dusty notebooks on the shelves and overlooked files on my hard-drive. Thanks for Coming has inspired me to write an account of how ridiculously sex has changed my life. It's not even funny anymore, it's pathetic. I want to document my transformation from your average teenage girl into this pathetic, nymphomaniac of a girl in the course of about two months. In this time I have been intimate with two men, the first to whom I willingly gave up my virginity and the second who led me on, teased and is now ignoring me. Because I am trying not to be bitter about how they have both treated me, their names will be changed, but they know who they are.
I will share what I can here in installments, because even if I never get any of this published, I want the information to be out in the open for any other girl who has been affected in a similar way to find and know she is not alone. I know they are out there, I have spoken to one in particular who has gone though a similar change, so I know my time won't be wasted. And even if no ones reads this, at least I can get the whole fucking thing off my chest.

Hi. My name's Rex, and welcome to my poxy life.

Anyone that gets the reference in the title wins a gold star and one favor of your choosing. Search engines = cheating. It's been a while since I've "blogged" as I hear the kids these days do. The problem is I never have anything to write about. I don't live that interesting of a life, and no one reads this shit anyway. So, I'm not going to London. Tiffany and I had planned on enrolling in the Spring term Study Abroad program with PCC and studying in London for almost 4 months, but surprise, surprise, our plans fell through. Neither of us could afford the $10,000 trip because PCC are a bunch of wankers that hide 40% of the costs in the small print. Somehow, the $6,000 price tag they originally advertise doesn't actually cover the cost of the plane ticket, the tuition or the resources. WHAT THE FUCK DOES IT COVER? I had this whole thing planned out: Tiffany and I would be roomies and spend our three-day weekends traveling and visiting old friends. I wasn't going to tell anyone and surprise them when I got there, but really all I ended up doing was not disappointing them with yet more canceled plans to visit. I truly am a terrible friend. It was going to be so great, I'd call someone up and be like, "Hey, what are you doing tomorrow, 'cos I'm in London and I think we should party. SURPRISE!" The best I can do now is continue to save up what little money I am earning to make the trip on my own, which, funnily enough will cost about a fifth of what the Study Abroad program would have. In my world, it's still a lot of fucking money. Apart from fucking me over with the London thing, college has been far less painful than I had imagined. My acting teacher first term was an absolute nutjob, but this new lady is quite nice. Except for the whole "get up on stage and take your clothes off," thing. Seriously, if I had wanted to strip, I would have signed up for the pole-dancing fitness class. My Shakespeare teacher is adorable. I seriously just want to keep her forever, she's such a doll. I have never in my life had a teacher that got so giddy with excitement over a subject, and she has been doing this for 17 years. For extra credit last term, she invited us all over to her house to eat cookies and read As You Like It, and her daughter made us all hand-made Christmas cards with little messages written in crayon. Last but not least, my film studies class is pretty cool, but let's face it, it will never live up to film studies at Strode with Chris, Jacob and Ben Boydell. It's just not possible. All in all, 2010 has been a bit pants so far. The first twenty minutes or so were good, laughing it up at the restaurant with some lovely colleagues, even if they did try and serve me apple juice in a champagne flute. I was offended at first, but I can't stay mad at Eric when he cracks a smile, his happy is too contagious. Since then I haven't really had anything to report. Work has been good, the show I'm working on is hilarious and filthy and I haven't failed any classes yet. I'm still breathing, apparently, so that's got to be a good sign, right? I had hoped something more interesting would have happened by now. I guess Rachel's right, I am quite impatient. I hope 2010 isn't this boring for everyone, it's a bright, shiny new decade, we should be out partying and carousing until the second cock. Just once I want to be that girl that you read about on textsfromlastnight.com, who gets shitfaced the night before, pulls a cheesy Star Trek-related pick up line in a bar and wakes up with half a smudged phone number scrawled across her chest and wearing a stranger's clothes*. I think I just found my New Years resolution!

*Please note that I will never live out this fantasy, it was merely a hypothetical, outlandish anecdote illustrating how wild I want to allow myself to become for just one night, and not even a good one at that. Next year's resolution will have to be to become more imaginative.