Thursday, March 30, 2006

Is it all about the Benjamins?

I have just finished filming my TV debut.

A friend of mine is doing a project for her broadcasting class on student spending habits, and I was a prime candidate for the stereotypical student spending beyond her means. It was funny to talk about it, I'm sure it'll really help with her project, but the truth is that I am spending irresponsibly. My income is officially below the poverty line, even after my student loans. I only work part time because I want to be able to focus on school and still actually have a life, but the fact is that having a life costs money. I spend way too much money on clothes and cover charges and drinks and eating out, not to mention basic living expenses (rent, utilities, groceries, and the necessary luxury of a phone) and I don't work enough to finance all of that. I end up with overdraft fees and late payments and $10,000 in student loan debt when I graduate. But would I be better off if I worked more and indulged less? Would I be happier? How does the stress of always living from paycheck to paycheck weigh up against the memories I'm making, the friendships I'm building, and the fun that I'm having? I try to focus on what's really important in life, and money to me is a means to an end. Happiness is the goal, not wealth. I just worry that happiness will suddenly be intimately intertwined with money when I can't get a mortgage because I fucked up my credit score. As far as my life now is concerned, however, I think this quote sums it up:

"You have four years to be irresponsible here. Relax. Work is for people with jobs. You'll never remember class time, but you'll remember time you wasted hanging out with your friends. So, stay out late. Go out on a Tuesday with your friends when you have a paper due Wednesday. Spend money you don't have. Drink 'til sunrise. The work never ends, but college does..."
-Tom Petty

Because Tom Petty is totally an expert on life.

Sunday, March 26, 2006

sunday morning

I open my eyes and look over at you, eyes still closed but I know you're awake, the sun shining on your face through the curtains in this neurotically spotless apartment you call home. And I know it's not really home for you. I know that you hate it here because it's so far away from all the people who really matter in your life. You hate this apartment with the ridiculous rent in a hurricane-inflated real estate market, you hate this state that I've lived in my whole life, you hate this part of the country and our odd obsession with ourselves as "southerners". You treat me with indifference, and I wonder if you only see me out of boredom or in search of an opportunity to talk about yourself some more. And that's all you seem to do when we're together, talk about yourself. I feel overshadowed by you. And I'm not sure you have any clue that I'm smart or funny or interesting too, because you're so busy telling me all about yourself and making it clear that you're hilarious and intelligent. I'm not sure who you're trying to convince, me or you, but I've gotten the point, you can let it go now and please just relax. Is it possible that you're really as self-absorbed as you seem? And if so that's unfortunate, because I really am quite fond of the idea of you. Maybe that's what I need to let go of, the idea of you, and then it'll suddenly be overwhelmingly obvious that you are never going to be right for me. It seems as though you're giving me the upper hand, because with every word that comes out of your mouth you're telling me more about yourself and missing an opportunity to learn more about me. Every time I leave you I walk away feeling empty, no matter how much I've been filled with information about who you are and what makes you tick, because I haven't had an opportunity to share any of myself with you in return. And for the life of me I can't figure out why I keep seeing you. Perhaps it's old habits of self-deprivation rising to the surface, or boredom, or a desire for physical affection, or both. I just never can walk away from a challenge, and this is the kind of game that by now I should know I'll never win.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006


15--Days until my birthday. Two weeks from today, at midnight, I will begin the most ridiculously irresponsible and licentious ten day drinking binge in the history of 21st birthdays. I'm aware that the appeal will wear off quickly, and it'll be back to normal life, only now I'll be able to buy beer. I want to revel in the glory of immaturity while it's fresh, and then go back to reality.

17--Days until my glorious birthday bash. I'm totally gonna be the drunk girl at this party, and it's gonna be awesome.

19--Days until I leave for my drunken beachfront paradise. 5 nights of sand, sun, and freedom. Three of my favorite things. Panama City Beach, here I come!

Monday, March 20, 2006

It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp

What I Love About Being Single:
The freedom to do whatever I please, whenever I please, with whomever I please.
The excitement and giddiness that comes along with meeting someone new.
Getting to know so many cool and interesting new guys, whether it works out or not.

What I Hate About Being Single:
The lonliness I feel when I remember that no guy gives a shit what I'm doing, or when, or with whom (at least no one whose feelings I worry about).
Getting my hopes up every time I meet someone who I think I could like, only to have him inevitably reveal some fatal flaw (a penchant for masturbating in front of me, a racist ideology, the fact that he lives in a tent, etc., to name a few I've encountered).
The tediousness of moving from guy to guy to guy, wondering when I'm going to find one who can make me happy.

I'm not hard to please. I'm low-maintenance, even. I'm cute and cheerful and intelligent (if I do say so myself). I love to laugh and eat and cuddle. And I guess the problem hasn't been so much that they're not interested in me. I get plenty of dates, and yeah there are a few who never called me again, but just as many who I certainly could have continued on with had I felt so inclined. I've just gotten to be a little picky.

You see, the thing is. I had a boyfriend for a very long time (3 years). It's a wonderful thing. Active sex life, compulsory cuddling, built-in best friend. But it didn't work out. Now that I've had something so seemingly blissful fail on me, I want to make sure the next guy I allow myself to fall head-over-heels for is...wonderful. Is that too much too ask? My life is already good, I'm happy as I am. And I refuse to settle for anybody who does anything less than improve it exponentially.

There's a guy I'm seeing now, and I do like him, but I feel like I'm almost just waiting...he's cleared all of the dealbreaker thresholds, and now I'm just waiting to see if he's wonderful. Am I expecting too much here? Or am I just setting standards on my time and happiness? In the meantime I'm trying to just enjoy the cuddling and oral sex, and if that's wrong then I just don't wanna be right.

Saturday, March 18, 2006

Adventures in Cuddling

Wow, haven't posted in a while. Recent developments:

I went to a Tacky Prom party last weekend, which basically means I spent an embarrassing amount of money on ridiculous clothes in an effort to still be hott despite the theme. Anyway, after consuming an inappropriate amount of cheap red wine, I met this guy. He's a walking disaster. A real bad boy, the kind of guy who just seems to find trouble no matter where he goes. He reminded me of the high-school ex-boyfriend my parents hated. Guys like that are my worst nightmare, because I meet them and all I can think about is how cute and smart and misunderstood they are, and all he really needs is a good girl to be there by his side and he'll straighten right up. I've got a penchant for picking up guys as "projects". It's a disaster, and I know it. So what did I do? I brought him home to cuddle with me. And of course, he's really sweet and intelligent and attractive, and he's never going to call me again. For God's sake, he's practically homeless. Why do I let guys like that hurt my feelings?

On a brighter note, I met another guy (yes yes, two guys in one week, I roll like a pimp), and this guy is a winner. He's tall and cute and really intelligent, and nice and responsible. We went out (and stayed in) twice in two nights, and I really hope it continues because I like him a lot. And he's not homeless.

Thursday, March 09, 2006


I watched Crash last night, and I loved it. I thought they did a great job of portraying the characters with complexity and contradictions. I'm embarrassed to admit the number of racist individuals I've encountered in my life. I thought the white characters in the film were very accurate, and reminded me of people I've known and loved.

This is my beef with the film, and I think it's simply a blind spot, reminding us that even screenwriters are part of the system of racism, I thought that the Persian man was portrayed as one-dimensional, angry, and irrational. Through most of the film the audience struggles to see any reason behind his behavior and decisions, and I often felt frustrated. I think that this type of portrayal is an example of how easy it is in a post-9/11 world to degrade the Muslim community without anyone even noticing. It really bothered me because this is the type of film that has an opportunity to really get people thinking about their stereotypes, and it simply reinforces the image of the crazed Islamic fanatic from the Middle East.

I'm taking a Muslim Women's Writing class this semester, and without fail, every single time I tell someone what I'm taking, they say, "Muslim women's writing, I'm surprised there's much of that out there to read." Our view of the Muslim world is so static and one-dimensional. It's such a diverse and varied society, and we force labels upon it without ever trying to understand more deeply, because it's easier.

Monday, March 06, 2006

Kiss Slowly, Love Deeply, Forgive Quickly

My ex-boyfriend came over last night to talk. It amazes me how awkward it is for us to hang out now, after three years together. The nature of the visit was kind of awkward in itself though, since he came over to talk about stuff between us.

When we broke up, I told him I couldn't be his friend, and I knew that he was really hurt by that. So later on, when I felt like I was ready, I decided that it was worth it to me to make the effort, since we'd been so much to each other for so long.

Apparently I wasn't as over it as I thought I was (or maybe I was just bitter about him finding someone new so inappropriately soon--mere weeks after we broke up), because I've been a bit of a smart-ass. A snide comment here, an allusion to his failures as a boyfriend there. I was still angry, and still hurting, and it showed. We only talked maybe once every week or two, but somehow each time I managed to say hurtful things to him, and he never even let me know I was out of line. One day, he freaked out at me, and suddenly we were fighting in text messages. What the fuck? I was blown away. He's very even-tempered, I can probably count the number of times he's gotten mad at me in three years on one hand. Suddenly he was ripping me a new asshole, and I hadn't even realized I was hurting him. Then I got pissed.

He knows me this well, and he didn't even let me know he was upset with me, so I could at least take notice and try to be more considerate? And fuck him anyway, if he wants to be my friend then part of that is acknowledging that he hurt me, and that it's just gonna take time to heal. Part of being a friend to me is trying to understand why I'm saying those things, and let me know that it's out of line, so that in an effort to be a friend to him I can stop.

Anyway, after said (junior-high maturity level) text message fight, we didn't speak for a few weeks. I ran into him very briefly the other night and knew that he was leaving town for a while, so last night I called and asked him if we could talk.

I feel better about some things, and some things still hurt. It will take a very long time for the sting to fade when I think of him loving somebody new (especially her, because she was a friend of ours. I had mistakenly perceived her as harmless). I have to come to terms with the fact that I am not as important to him as I once was, and never will be, just as he is not as important to me anymore.

On the other hand, something unexpected brought me great comfort. I said that I thought he treated her better than he had treated me for a long time, and he replied that he had learned a lot from mistakes he'd made with me. As much as I resent the idea of her getting more from him than I ever did, it meant a lot to me to know that he was acknowledging some level of responsibility for the deterioration of our relationship, and had learned from it. I care about him, and I want him to be happy. And if he can be happy with someone else because he's figured out how he fucked it up with me, then I'm happy for him.

What I'm learning here is that closure is gradual. I'm so much better now than I was three months ago, and I know that it's okay for it to still hurt. I gave far too much of my heart and my life to him to be able to walk away unscathed. But what brings me comfort is the knowledge that neither of us will ever regret the time that we spent together, and if we can learn from it and be better, stronger, happier people, then none of it was in vain.

His mom's still disappointed that we're not getting married. Just like me, I'm sure she'll find a way to move on.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

I Hate My Neighbors.

I thought it was bad when they would wake me up at night with their sex.

I would slowly open my eyes, and try to figure out why I had woken up. It always seemed as though something was just not quite right...then I would realize my ceiling was squeeking. The squeeking would continue, growing faster and louder, and then the moaning would reach a pitch loud enough to be heard right through their floor and into my room. I felt like I was overhearing a porn soundtrack.

It seemed as though it was happening often, with greater frequency and at odd times of the day. I told my roommate that I thought one of them had to be sneaking someone else over. There's no way one couple can have that much crazy sex with so much enthusiasm.

It seems as if I was right, because now they hate each other. I think he must have gotten busted, because homegirl is no longer a happy camper. She stomps around and screams and slams doors. We can hear her sitting on the front steps screaming into the phone (right outside of our living room; She's so considerate.) "Where are you?!?! Who are you with?!?!" I'm hoping they'll just break up soon and move the fuck out. My rabbit's being traumatized by all this anger in the air.

Apparently I'm bitter

You're An Angry Drunk

Ever wake up with sore knuckles and a black eye? Thought so.
What Kind of Drunk Are You?

hmmm...I never would have pinned myself as angry. Perhaps it's because I said I was most likely to drunk dial one of my exes, or get arrested for talking back to a cop.

Friday, March 03, 2006


Ha! Apparently, at some website called gizoogle you can translate any website into "jive". Here are my favorite excerpts from my recent posts:

Amanda n I gots all thizzay shit fo` fizzle . They call me tha black folks president. We weren't even at a parade, we were J-to-tha-izzust at Tropical n tha Bud Light thugz started blingin' us fizzy gin n' juice n Mardi Gras shizzit so i can get mah pimp on.

HaHa . know what im sayin?. That's tha famous New Orleans Hand Grenade rhymin' around mah nizzay by mah beads as I lean over ta sip wit ultimate convenience wit da big Bo$$ Dogg.

You can see for yourself here.

I feel so thug.

More Mardi Gras Pics

I finally got my camera back. I'm reluctant to post these; I don't exactly look spectacular, but who cares, it's Mardi Gras.

Amanda and I got all that shit for free. We weren't even at a parade, we were just at Tropical and the Bud Light people started giving us free beer and Mardi Gras shit.

This one's a bit scandalous. I pray my mother never stumbles across my blog.

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Your Ignorance is Apparent

So I've been casually dating this guy, and he was over the other day and I was watching CNN (as I always am), when he decides it's a good idea to argue with me about politics, knowing that I'm pretty liberal, and he's pretty not. Up until this point, I wasn't holding his conservatism against him--I'll respect his opinions so long as he respects mine. Inevitably the topic turned to the issue of the rebel flag, which is a huge issue at LSU.

I even warned him, "Are you sure you want to talk to me about this?" He plunged ahead. What I repeat here are his exact words:
"I'll admit I have some racist ideals."

I was floored. I had no idea anyone in my generation could be so clueless as to not at least be in denial of their hatred. He seems to be proud of it, apparently oblivious to how completely ignorant he just exposed himself to be. How do you make it this far in life, how do you grow up in America and even get through a few years of college, without picking up that that's NOT OKAY?!? Dude, grow the fuck up and take a look at the world around you. Leave the racism to our parents and grandparents.

I hope he didn't think that was a good way to pick up girls.

Mardi Gras Pics

Naked Cowboy. We had some good times.
HaHa. That's the famous New Orleans Hand Grenade hanging around my neck by my beads as I lean over to sip with ultimate convenience.
I'm such a pimp. Girls love me.

I'll probably have more pics later. In my drunken stupor I left my own camera in my friend's car. I got these from facebook.