Friday, November 27, 2009

Phases.

During every phase of life, there are things that happen to every person. These are the things we talk about.


In the single age years (1-9), it's losing teeth. It's getting on the honor roll. It's collecting rolly polleys in a sand bucket.

In the preteen/early teen years (10-14), it's finding the courage to talk to that boy you have a crush on. It's getting on braces. It's making the team.

In the teen years (15-19), it's your first real date. It's getting your driver's license. It's your first love. It's becoming the age of majority and getting to vote.

Then there's the 20s. Yup, that's me. I'm in this phase and it seems anything is fair game. A lot of things are "supposed" to happen in your 20s:
Your first apartment. Turning 21. Graduating and scoring a great job. Finding "the one." Getting engaged. Getting married. Having babies.

Gag. me. now.

Maybe I'm a bit bitter that I've completed only one of the those tasks. But here's my thing, EVERY SINGLE PERSON is getting engaged, getting married and having babies. Every time I turn around there's another diamond ring profile picture. And honestly, I'm pretty tired of having it shoved in my face.

Yes, you are engaged. Yes, you are a newlywed. Yes, you've landed the perfect job. Please.

(On my side note, my current annoyance is when people use facebook as a way to "flaunt" their lives. If you're happy, be happy. But if you're trying to make your life look superior to others, chances are you are spending more time making your profile look that way than you actually are living happily.)

I guess this 20s phase is better than the alternative. The older we get, the bleaker it gets. I'm not ready to hear about my friend's kids going to college. Or my best friend hitting menopause. Or people from my high school class dying of old age. So I guess I'm stuck here. In my 20s. Watching happiness unfold at every corner.



I'm a twenty-something. Leave me alone.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Lazy.

This is for the random guy I always see but never meet.

Everyone has lazy days, yes? Sometimes even a lazy week. Well, I've been having a lazy SEMESTER. Partly because I've been sick for precisely 50 percent of it.

A lazy day usually entails this:
Set alarm for last minute possible.
Wake up.
Pee.
Change clothes.
Brush teeth.
Leave.

This doesn't exactly leave time for the beautification process.
(Sidenote: If my brother is reading this right now, he will say, "Shea you look pretty without makeup on!" However, on various occasions he's been embarrassed to go to the mall with me when I'm wearing nike shorts and a ponytail with no makeup. This is partly because everyone always thinks we're dating. But I digress.)

On those days I leave the house in jeans and a T-shirt with no makeup, I'm exhausted and just want to get class over. But a lot of times, I see this one person who is always "Hollistered" out. Then he looks me over and most likely rolls his eyes behind his oh-so-fashionable sunglasses and deems me not suitable for society.

But to you I say...seriously? Just because you think you're the hottest thing to walk this earth doesn't mean I should wear my prom dress to class. (As another note: PLEASE do not wear heels to class. Honestly.)

Perhaps I'm grungy because I had strep and had thrown up six hours before on the previous day. Did you think about that?

Maybe I sound witchy here. But it's my personal blog here where I'm allowed to complain within reason.

What gets me though is that I actually LET those imaginary looks get to me. (because they are indeed imaginary. I've never actually witnessed a dirty look.) But it shouldn't get to me. I am who I am. And if I meet my future husband on a lazy day, I'll put on sunglasses and hide behind a tree.

Okay, not really. But it wouldn't matter.

So to the transport to the dark basement which is the journalism world, I feel like I'm competing in Miss America. But then I arrive at the GAB and remember that every other journalist is exhausted and only lives from story to story too. I'm not alone in this.