Category Archives: My Life

Loft Beds & Bonobos

Disembarking a loft bed has an inherent indecency to it, especially when you’re a nineteen year old college student. Firstly, there’s the unflattering contortions you have have to make to climb down the ladder, which digs into your feet, already two ugly enough appendages. Your stomach folds in on itself, everything hangs in ways it shouldn’t and you just want to get it over with as quickly as possible. You don’t want people to see you getting off a loft bed and you don’t want to see people do it, so maybe you avert your eyes a little when it happens. We climbed trees as children and as monkeys. No young adult looks attractive behaving like either. Not that this deters us in the slightest from doing just that.

It’s an even more unattractive endeavor when you’re going through these humiliating motions in order to take a shit at three in the morning. Thankfully no one witnesses the entire sequence of animalian tendencies, but you know you’re doing it, and now you’re painfully aware that you’re human, just a dirty hairless chimp really, and you probably should have taken a shower before you went to bed because everything’s just uncomfortably sticky. It’s especially fun when, squinting like a blinded chihuahua, you run into someone you know in the hallway. She’s up at two in order to flirt with a boy with whom she has an unspecified relationship, and they’re probably waiting until the common room is completely, assuredly empty in order to have sex there, or something of that nature, because there may be polygamy involved with his best friend, and it’s really very complicated and you don’t want to think about it at three in the morning.

The really concerning part is that if you’re coherent enough to have their fucked up relationship flit across your mind, then the turd you’re about to pass in the bathroom definitely could have flitted through theirs. But then you start thinking about polygamy, because it’s a hell of a lot more interesting, and maybe they all have some sort of arrangement that makes it work out. You don’t know, it could be perfectly natural. Our nearest relation in the animal kingdom is the bonobo and they live in peaceful, utopian little tribes where everyone just happens to have sex with everyone. They’re like hippies except without the secret trust fund to fall back on and without the sad, depressing future domestic life they’ll eventually enter when they hit thirty and start craving stability.

That’s when you reach the communal bathroom and become aware that your neighbor is kneeling at the toilet vomiting up the excessive amount of alcohol she drank two hours previously. And you kind of judge her a little because it’s a weeknight, the parties aren’t poppin’, and it’s just a bit pathetic. However, whatever superiority you may have felt immediately dissipates when you realize that it actually still is the weekend, a Friday no less, and you’re in the grey area between drunk and hungover, and you kind of hate yourself for forgetting that. Because it’s all fun and games until your utopian little tribe falls asleep. You may not be able to have sex with everyone like the bonobos, but at least you can commiserate.

You do your business, wash your hands, and abuse the paper towel dispenser. At this point your smeared makeup just accentuates your imperfections and unexciting averageness, so you don’t really want to look in the mirror but you do it anyway. You kind of poke pointlessly at a red spot for as long as it takes to realize you’re making it worse or until someone walks in on you, whichever comes first.

The lovers in the hallway have disappeared so you hurry back to your room hoping not to see anyone else. You struggle with the door just long enough for some attractively disheveled nobody to walk out of the laundry room looking for the men’s restroom. You’re almost tired enough to pointedly ask him who the hell he is and why he’s in your building but instead you politely tell him that the restroom is on the fifth floor. Then you have a coughing spasm.

This is why you return to bed angry and wake up angry. You really wish you hadn’t left in the first place and you really wish the carefully crafted and restrained person you present to the world were actually real. And this is why loft beds should be abolished.

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A Healthy Dose of Pessimism: Changing Majors

You know you’re a college student when people stop telling you to follow your dreams.

That's because these dreams are stupid, especially with space entering the competitive market. Stick with firefighting kids, because now only the rich can be astronauts.

That’s because these dreams are stupid, especially with space entering the competitive market. Stick with firefighting kids, because now only the rich can be astronauts.

You know you’re a very screwed college student when you don’t know what those stupid dreams even are. This is why I switched my major today from Music Industry to English. Continue reading

Why I’ve Been Away

Hi all, so I see that some of my views have been by individuals who’ve followed and liked posts on my blog in the past, so it’s only right I explain where I’ve been for six months.

The short answer is college, which is at the same time an incredibly busy and listless place. Courses are harder but I haven’t necessarily had less time, in fact I probably have more than I did at the peak of high school. I’ve made incredibly intelligent friends, had really eye-opening conversations, been exposed to new music, gone to some ragers, and have had a pretty wild time in general. That’s not to say I didn’t have time to write on this blog, I absolutely did, but sometimes you have to sit back and absorb things instead of instantly posting about them on social media. I don’t want to be that girl in the dining hall instagraming shitty fried chicken (yes, I’ve seen this happen). Nor do I want to be that girl who makes generic blog posts like “The 10 best things I’ve learned from first semester!” or “Important things to remember when you go to a frat party!”, though at some point in the future it’s entirely likely I’ll end up writing those two exact posts.

I also apologize for all this sounding at all preachy, or excessively proud. I don’t mean to be assumptive that my absence has to be explained, or to assume that readers need to care about it all. Thanks for reading.

Why This Week Blows

I haven’t written in a long time (a problem which I will address later), but have decided to wield my keyboard again in a misguided attempt to change the world. Or rather, I will talk about myself, seeing as there is so little I know about the world.

Why this week blows:

1) Blizzards

Completely real blizzard Juno blew into the East Coast with the fury of an anti-vaxxer on an online forum. I was subjected to temperatures in the teens, icicles threatening to impale me at every awning, and, later, the perils of black ice and slush. The snowfall earlier this week only added to the slushy disaster that is Boston’s roads, screwing with public transit and with my innocent Californian expectations of winter. Meanwhile, at home it is 60°. Continue reading

Phone call with Mom

A talk on the phone with Mom inevitably begins with asking for money. It’s not that I’m short on money, quite the opposite in fact for a college student, I just didn’t have enough money on my debit card in this instant to buy an online textbook. Plus, I need that money for weed. After the exchange of financial information, the conversation turns to more motherly things, because mine is the stereotypical Jewish mother, and we’re not even Jewish.

Are you sure you don't need me to send you money, dear? I heard college students buy lots of pots. That's for plants, right? I'm glad you understand the importance of gardening.

Are you sure you don’t need me to send you money, dear? I heard college students buy lots of pots. That’s for plants, right? I’m glad you understand the importance of gardening.

Continue reading

Drama in the Communal Bathroom

Communal bathrooms suck. Being an only child, I’m not used to have other people’s problems inhabiting my living space. Finding someone else’s triple strength acne cream half squeezed out in the sink isn’t a great start to a morning. People leave their hair stuck to the shower walls and curled up in the drain like a dead muppet. Communal bathrooms are a disgusting place.

One of our stalls is by the window, which is conveniently stuck open. If you use that toilet, mooning the third floor of the neighboring building is inevitable. I pity the girls who haven’t yet figured this out.

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College is entirely about drugs–even if you don’t do them

When I arrived at campus, I received some very mixed messages from my school about drug and alcohol use. I attended a mandatory talk about how both were unsafe and mostly illegal, and promptly discovered that my school sells vanity shot glasses from its bookstore. And this isn’t just a little joke shelf. It’s an stand alone aisle of shot glasses and beer mugs emblazoned with our logo. How’s that for confusion? On top of this, marijuana is decriminalized in the state of Massachusetts, and yet, if found on a government funded campus such as mine, is a federal offense again. Since the state of Massachusetts is 90% federally funded university, effectively, marijuana isn’t decriminalized at all. Continue reading