Roll to me

I desperately need some male attention. It's been too long. Any sort of male attention will do (as long as it's positive). It's gotten to the point that I will eye-flirt with complete strangers on the el. Clearly being a single senior on a campus where all the men my age are either a) engaged, b) proposing, c) chasing after the young naive freshmen girls, or d) just plain creepy, sucks. Yes, I'm twenty-one. And yes. I just used the word sucks to describe a situation. This is not going to be an eloquent post. Stop reading now if you're expecting beautiful prose, because tonight, it's gonna be everything but.

No matter what I say, I'm still a die-hard romantic at heart. I'm all for women breaking through that proverbial glass ceiling, but at the end of the day, I still want someone to open my doors, someone to hold me, someone to reaffirm my belief in myself. No matter how many times I might tell myself that I'm completely happy single - and my dating experience seems to echo that sentiment - there's a part of me that just wants to cut ahead through the whole dating ritual and find the one.

I never dated in high school. Idealist that I was (and might still be), I wanted to find someone who perfectly and completely complemented me, date, and then settle down. And clearly, I didn't find anyone who fit my list. At the year-end journalism banquet, as I passed the feature page torch on, my successor presented me with a children's book that summed up my love philosophy - Shel Silverstein's the missing piece. I've just started to realize that I might still be stuck on the first page of that book - I'm waiting around hoping that my missing piece will come along and find me, when clearly, I need to play a more active role and start searching. And I can't expect that the first wedge that I find will fit me. I'm going to need to try on rectangles and pentagons to find my triangle.

Two Fridays ago, I was caught in a massive snowstorm that forced me to seek shelter in our local Barnes and Noble, where a new fiction bestseller caught my eye. The Year of Yes. In it, the author pledges to say yes to everyone who asks her out. I'm going to adopt that philosophy as well. In the past, I would passed up rectangles, because at face value, they're clearly not triangles. But as Shel Silverstein's book taught me, I don't know that they don't fit me, unless I try them on for size.

So many people say that unless you know who you really are as an individual, you shouldn't date. Bah humbug to that. Dating helps you realize what defines you. It makes you realize what your deal-breakers are, and conversely, how things you once thought were deal-breakers are actually bearable. The missing piece found that it could become whole simply by rolling along, trying new experiences (read: shapes); it could become it's own entity, with nothing missing. Similarly, I pledge to stop waiting for things to happen and start rolling, taking risks along the way.

So here's to the new yes me. Bring on the eye flirting. Bring on the older men whom I wouldn't have dated in the past. Bring on the tattooed, pierced eyebrow, quintessential bad boy. Bring on the nerds. Bring on the new experiences. I will break down these walls that I've built, stop crossing off lists, and learn to fly by the seat of my pants.

Me against the music, part two

I apologize for the Britney Spears' title. But it just fit so well.

There's a neighbor update! I've just been told that his out-of-state girlfriend is visiting this weekend and that they're very into the whole bondage, S&M thing. And that he's rearranged his room so that his bed is now up against our mutual wall, complete with handcuffs, ropes, scarves, etc.

I can't compete with this.

I'm throwing in the towel, and looking for a place to stay this weekend.

Lend me some sugar, I am your neighbor

I would like to preface this post by mentioning that I am normally a very nice person. A little cynical and sarcastic at times, but genuinely nice nevertheless. With that in mind, I would like to announce to the world that my neighbor is a tool.

No, I don't really know what a tool or a douchebag is, but he embodies that description. He's inconsiderate and egotistical - and I got all of this just from listening to him through the walls.

My all hate-no love-affair started a couple of weeks ago. One morning, at 6am, I'm awoken by some background vibrations. He was blaring his bass - so powerful that it shook our mutual shared wall and knocked a book off my shelf and then promptly smacked me into consciousness. I've moved my books so they're nowhere near my head now, and as long as I'm asleep before he starts playing his music, I'm fine, cause I am amazing and can sleep through (mostly) anything.

But recently he's taken to playing his music (always very loudly, mind you) randomly for hour-long blocks during the day. It's always the same song. You'd think that the constant rhythmic bass would become somewhat lulling (is that a word?) after a while, but no, it makes the headache worse because you know how headaches pound (ie. I have a pounding headache)? My headache starts to pound TO the beat of the music. So I finally leave my room (something I realized I should have done earlier, but I'm an optimist - he'll turn it off after this song...Maybe after this song...Oh! - oh- maybe, oh, nope. Still going like the energizer bunny.) So I leave my room, but the bass stays with me. At first I thought that his music was just so loud that I could hear it from our living room. But then I realized that no, I was indeed just going crazy.

I've learned my lesson and start leaving my room as soon as his music starts. Which while not always constructive to my studying is absolutely necessary for my sanity. But then he upped it up a notch. He's learned the lyrics (well, I guess that was inevitable...you'll eventually learn the words to a song you listen to over and over and over) and will start singing along at top volume. Just like how American idol's worst auditions are amusing, it's funny at first, but then quickly turns PAINFUL. Imagine listening to the same bad singer continuously throughout the day. I don't know how William Hung sold as many records as he did.

I finally had enough. You'd think that the adult in me would have marched over to his suite and asked him to turn it down. But I'm just a girl who's a little scared of all frat boys. So I turned my puny little laptop speakers towards the wall and started blasting Brad Paisley's Wrapped Around Her Finger. Childish? Of course. But it felt SO good. Especially when my neighbor abruptly turned off his music, slamming his door as he left the building.

Revenge, my friends, is very sweet indeed.

Time to start learning opera songs. Just in case.

This post brought to you by Awkward

I haven't talked to my ex-boyfriend in a really long time. We see each other and either (a) start fiddling with books or jackets to avoid eye contact, (b) suddenly become completely absorbed with the surrounding trees, lake, and buildings that we don't see people coming in our direction, (c) look down and start reading every poster/announcement - even the ones that don't concern us at all - oh look, the Hillel group is having a dinner, I should really look into that, or (d) if we're feeling particularly magnanimous, we'll glance at each other and nod.

It really is amazing that I haven't run into him more this year. We live in the same dorm, but we've got avoiding each other down to an art. So imagine my surprise this morning, as I'm rushing to class, I skid to a halt as I realize he's two steps ahead of me. no problem, I think to myself, I'll just stay conveniently two steps behind and he'll never know. Well, who knew that he actually does enjoy looking around at nature on a normal basis, and not just when he sees me approaching? So he casually glances behind him and sees me. Cue total shock and surprise on his face. Which then quickly changes to an oh crap, what do I do? expression. I try to be cool and somehow my hand coordination works as I wave hello with a quizzical look. Yes, I was trying to be cute...going for the whole look what you're missing out on thing that ex-girlfriends are all guilty of when forced to interact with their ex for the first time.

Him: Hey.
Me: Hi. How's it going?
Him: Oh it's good...Applying to med school and all that.
Me: Oh yeah? Don't worry about it, you're going to be a hit with the interviewers.
Him: Aw, thanks. Headed to class?
Me: Yup. Guess you're my walking buddy today.
Him: I feel so honored.

Except that didn't happen.

How nice would it have been if we, two young adults - graduating seniors! - could have had a normal conversation. What really happened was this:

Him: Hey.
Me: [Wave hello because for some odd reason my mouth and vocal cords aren't functioning]
Him: 'sup. (Which is actually really hilarious because he's a total prim and proper Caucasian boy, and he said it all hustle and flow-like.)
Me: [Shrug and shake my head to convey not much]
Him: [With no warning or parting sentiment, takes off sprinting to class]

Now mind you - we were not going to be late for class; there was plenty of time. And guys don't normally take off running after talking to me. I was absolutely flabbergasted. It was almost sitcom-ish the way it happened. I mean, honestly. Who runs away from their ex?

And after I got to class, took out my lecture slides, and started to take notes, I almost laughed out loud over how coincidental this whole morning was. See, today is January 18th. If we were still together, we'd be celebrating our one-year anniversary today.

Point system

I started 4 posts this weekend, and couldn't complete any of them. I'll come back later tonight and try to finish them off if I get my cell bio assignment done on time...or I'll just try and summarize my thoughts in one big blog entry, which will undoubtedly lead to incoherent ramblings... but bear with me.

I've been trying to distance myself these past couple of days from some people....which is mainly what my 4 other posts have been about. See, I have this amazing ability to cut ex-boyfriends out of my life. Resolutely. Completely. I figure, once the relationship is over, there's just really too much excess baggage to even try to have some semblance of a friendship. It's just better if we revert back to the acquaintances stage. We nod and smile casually at each other if we pass each other on the street, or - better yet - avoid eye contact at all costs. But I can't do that with close friends who've hurt me. I can't cut those ties. I know that there's really no point to maintaining a friendship - I mean, honestly, it's the same standard right? They've hurt me, why should I bother giving them a second chance? But I do. I give second chances. Third chances. Fourth chances. And yes, I recognize how pathetic I might sound just now. Essentially, I feel as though I've invested too much in that friendship to give it all up.

But that all stops now. I read about a 27-point love affair plan, which I think can be easily adapted to friendships. How it originally works is this: you start with 27 points. Every time you call them, you deduct 3 points from your score. Every time they call you, you add two points to your score. If you drunk-dial them, you subtract twelve points. If they drunk-dial you, you add ten points. Once your balance hits zero, the love affair's over. (And yes, I think IM-ing and drunk-IMing counts here as well...it's the same as phone calls in our internet-enabled world.) So here's how I think it should be applied to friendships. It's the same thing. Start with 27. But because friendships should be completely fair and equal, when they call you, or you call them, you either add 3 points or subtract 3 points, respectively. You never want to be over 50 or close to zero. If you're over 50...clearly you're avoiding the person, and the question to ask yourself is why? If you're at 5 or lower, you're investing way more than the other person is. And again, ask yourself - why?

Can a friendship really just be dumbed down to just a number? Maybe, maybe not. But it's bound to make you reevaluate at least some of them.

So starting today, I'm going to start using my point system. Maybe tweak it every now and then and add some more rules when I feel like it -comments on blogs are one point each, every week that goes by without either one of you talking to each other is minus 5 points, presents/random acts of kindness are 8 points, visits are 2 points - but this is it. I'm drawing the line. And I'm going to figure out who exactly values my friendship as much as I value theirs.

(Not-so) resolute resolutions

Today I came to the startling realization that I've gone too long without posting my New Year's resolutions. I'm starting to feel Valentine's Day pains creeping up on me and that "holiday" is in February! So clearly, I gotta get my January posts done. Today, it's all about resoluting!

First and basically the main "resolution" on the list. I will get my lazy butt in gear. And that's not just about getting in shape. It applies to everything. I will stop procrastinating. I will blog more - get these (sometimes crazy) thoughts down on (virtual) paper more often. It's surprisingly therapeutic. I think I also need to take baby steps to just be more active. Start using the farther bathroom. Refusing to use the elevator when it's available. Walking to south campus instead of taking the shuttle (although, if it gets really cold, this one has gotta be exempt.) I got a aerobic dance workout DVD. First, laugh. It's okay, I did too. But, here's hoping it'll make me want to workout/stay somewhat in shape (and make me move like Paula Abdul - haha).

Secondly, I need to develop that kinder persona I know is lurking in my snarktastic soul. This past weekend, my RA was freaking out about how one of our new suitemates hasn't been seen this weekend. See, we got a new suitemate this quarter - a guy who at 24, bravely decided to come back to college and get his degree. I figured - he's 24! I'm sure he knows how to take care of himself and yes, I will admit, I thought my RA was a bit kooky for worrying so much over a 24-year old. But as she started to freak out more, I started getting a bit scared as well. I don't know him at all. How am I supposed to know how balanced he is? All I know is that he's transferred schools 4 times - which when brought to light, made all of us realize that he might have been sincerely depressed that he didn't receive a bid for a particular frat. Luckily, the story ends well. We broke into his room (and by that, I mean my RA received permission to open his door to make sure he hadn't killed himself), and found it empty. Sighs of relief all around. But the moment before she opened the door, I found myself freaking out that 1. I had been making fun of my RA for worrying so much, and 2. I had been saying mean things about my new suitemate as well after he ate some of our food. I mean, first off. I'm kinda really glad that my RA is so concerned about us. Maybe I was being glib by not worrying about where my suitemate was. Secondly. I need to be more giving. Sometime during college, I became very exacting. I bought lunch last time, so do you want to pick up the check this time? or you owe me six dollars and FIFTEEN cents. granted, if you gave me seven dollars, I would dole out change, so it wouldn't feel as though I had profited. But the point that I'm trying to make (albeit badly) is that I need to be more loving. Do things because I want to do them. Love my friends and show them I love them. Don't expect things in return.

Third. Stop caring so much about what people think. 2005 was such a crap year because I cared so much about how others perceived me. what! She hates me!? Who freaking cares. She might hate me, but I have other people who love me for all my faults. So. Who cares. I'm gonna do things my way. And I think I'll be happier because of it.

And yes, I realize that everything kinda sounds more like life goals than resolutions, so here's the last "fluffy" resolution. I will not drink so much soda. ie. I will limit myself to drinking sodas only under special circumstances (studying for finals, parties - where I drink mainly soda, not alcohol). Today I made coffee with an actual coffeemaker (none of that instant folgers junk) and I felt like such a grownup. It was exciting, trust me. I need to start doing more adult things. I'm graduating this year. I'm going to stop denying the adult in me, and start suppressing my childish tendencies. And so yes, I will stop inhaling soda.

Funny thing. When I started thinking about my resolutions for this year, I came up with a bunch. Stop swearing like a pirate. Be more ladylike. Stop spending so much money. And that only made me curse more and burp aloud (loudly) more often on my recent shopping spree. It's almost as though it's ingrained in me to break resolutions.

So I propose a tryout period. I never cut off price tags until I've worn the new jeans or the new sweater around the house for at least a couple of hours to make sure that I'm gonna want to keep them. Cause so often, I get in the dressing room, develop a novelty crush and buy it on a whim, only to end up wearing the shirt maybe once (if I'm lucky) in my life. So, similarly, I say I try on these resolutions...and amend them properly so that they're actually keep-able.

We'll see if I need a price check in two weeks.

Girl friend --> girlfriend

When does the space in girl friend disappear so that the designation becomes girlfriend instead? Can it ever?

That came out of nowhere, I know. But I had to just blurt it out. Put it out there, so to speak. Okay, let's back this up a bit.

See, ideally I would love to meet someone, be a little bit attracted to him, and hit it off so well that we become best of friends. As he begins to figure me out (and I know I'm complicated), he'll learn who I am and know me inside and out (consequently making me be even MORE attracted to him). Then, if the feeling's mutual, we begin to date. Yet, in our instant gratification, 1-hour-photo-isn't-fast-enough world, it seems as though that whole getting-to-know-you part of relationship-ing, the part that I love LOVE love, is getting phased out. I mean seriously. Raise your hand if you know someone who went on one date with a guy from her class, and the next thing you know, they're in a steady relationship.

Who knows more than one?

See what I mean? Can you honestly feel such a connection to one person in just two hours? (Yes, I know dinner and a movie takes longer than two hours, but you're definitely not making a personal connection during a movie. And no, hand-holding does not count.) I'm not arguing that you can't feel attracted to someone. That's why you ask for a second date. I'm saying that you can't know in the small amount of time given that you can/want to make a serious commitment.

So to relate this back (somewhat awkwardly, I realize), I don't mind being the girl (space, space, space) friend. I'm just tired of it automatically designating me to the friend role. This kind of goes back to the whole ladder theory that was so popular a couple of years ago on the internet. The one that says girls have two ladders, one for lovers and another for friends, but boys can jump from one ladder to another (though some occasionally fall into the abyss, naturally). Boys, on the other hand, according to this theory, have only one ladder. Friends do not exist on this ladder, only lovers. So essentially, once you've been labeled as a friend, there's no turning back. and no, you cannot argue that everyone starts out as a friend. Everyone starts out as a potential lover, and then gradually, you get labeled as a lover or a friend.

I just want the courting/dating phase to make a comeback. Instead of deciding whether or not a girl could be a potential girlfriend, doesn't it make more sense to choose a girlfriend from a girl friend? These are the girls who've understood you, put up with you, sympathized with you. Why would you spend so much time learning about someone if you know it's going to go nowhere?

And I know people are going to assume this entire post is about one person. But it's not. I'm guilty of this too. how many times have I responded with, oh no! he's just a friend!, with a look of complete shock/disgust on my face? Countless. My friends have clearly thought that I should be dating my best guy friends. And yet, I never have. My previous relationships? All of them (and yes, I do mean, all) were the hi-nice-to-meet-you-let's-go-out type.

So I guess I shouldn't be sexist. When does boy friend become boyfriend?

In When Harry Met Sally, the movie tried to answer that age-old question: can men and women really just be friends? The romantic comedy says no. I say, yes. And when the friend label has been applied, men and women rarely ever become anything more.

Who knows. Maybe I'm completely wrong. Here's hoping I am.