I don’t necessarily consider myself the most “plugged-in” person. I have a tumblr, a facebook, a youtube account, and have been known to use google messenger once in a while, but I can hardly keep up with it all. I don’t know how some of my friends do it. It seems like some of them have nets out in every square inch of the sea of information that is the internet. Anytime someone does something remotely interesting and posts it on the internet, they are right there with tumblr, facebook, and twitter at the ready.

Having so many mediums for expression on the internet can be confusing sometimes. When something notable happens to me that I’d like to share with my friends, I’m not sure what site to post it on. And then there’s the awkward/embarrassing ”oh, I know. I read it on your facebook” response when I try to tell someone something in person. It seems like now you can tune into a friend’s life and daily happenings even if you haven’t seen or talked to them in person for months. I don’t know that our society will ever get to a point where we do away with personal contact altogether, but isn’t it weird how it’s becoming less and less necessary for day to day operations?

People break up, start dating, and break horrible news to each other over the internet, so it only seems like a matter of time before proposing to someone via skype will become a normal thing.

I may have come a long way, but some things (like life-long love affairs with karaoke) never change.

I don’t believe in “adulthood”. I don’t think there is a finite stage in our lives where we all of a sudden feel complete and grown-up. Everyday I pick up a new skill, learn something new about myself, or exercise just a little bit more self control and independence. We are continually accumulating life experiences and increasing our self-awareness, moving forward without realizing that we’re going anywhere.

Sometimes I snap awake though and it dawns on me that I’ve actually made a lot of progress, despite how unproductive I feel. Sometimes I look at myself, wearing an apron, baking apple crisp from scratch without supervision, and I think about how “adult” of a situation it is. It’s odd when you see yourself as a child in an adult’s circumstances. 

A large part of growing up for me has been understanding that I am not as special as I think I am. Well, more so that everyone is special, and therefore no one is special. I actually used to think that I had been blessed with some special gifts that other people didn’t have, and that I was unbeatable in so many areas of my life. I thought I was the wittiest, most well-rounded, most talented person in the world. Wow, that’s really embarrassing to admit.

But as I broadened my experiences and took ass-beating after ass-beating, I realized that I was so, so, so, wrong. What took me even longer to realize, though, was that it was okay not to be the “best.” A good friend of mine recognized my perfectionist tendencies and got me this book called The Underachiever’s Manifesto and even though it was kind of a joke, it has helped me to be okay with my mediocre self.

It’s an everyday struggle, but I am continually becoming more at peace with being nothing special.

I wonder if I could rock the La Roux-Hawk. Nah, I’d probably look like a 14 year old boy from Japan.

It’s like having to take a piss so bad when you’re on a road trip, and holding it in for hours until you can get to a rest stop, and then when you do get to a toilet and expect to unleash a rushing stream of urine, it trickles out for half a second and then stops. 

You are disappointed by the small volume, but relieved nonetheless.

Actually, that just kind of sounds like what happens when you have a UTI.

So maybe it’s more like playing wing-man for a friend and getting rejected by the homely girl you’re supposed to pursue in order to help your friend out. You didn’t want to make out with her anyway because she has jacked-up teeth, but you still can’t shake the feeling of rejection.

Or maybe this situation is easy enough to understand without convoluted analogies.

I originally planned to stay in Eugene this summer to finish building this bike shelter I’ve been working on all year, take some classes, and spend time with some special people. But then I saw that one of my favorite firms in Seattle was offering an internship, so I had to apply. The more that I thought about leaving Eugene though, the more realized how much I wanted to stay. There will be plenty of opportunities to intern and work in a firm, but no other opportunities to build this bike shelter that I’ve invested so much time and energy into.

When I found out I didn’t get the internship, I felt both relief and nagging disappointment. But I realize now that I’m more upset about getting rejected than I am about not being able to do the internship. I really do have a lot to look forward to here in Eugene, so I shouldn’t be so butt-hurt over it. Here is a list of all the things I’m going to do:

-Build a kick-ass bike shelter

-Stick a V2 bouldering route

-Cook lots of delicious food

-Take a wood shop class

-Build a coffee table

-Run a lot, and get a super hot bod

-Design my best studio project yet

-Get a start on my environmental studies minor

-Fortify friendships that I’ve either let go a bit, or haven’t had time to invest in

-and etc.,etc.

The list will keep growing as will my optimism.

Girls.

I don’t have many girlfriends, and the ones that I do have are not like typical girls. I used to have a lot, but somewhere along the road I started feeling awkward around them, especially in large packs. I just can’t feel at ease for some reason. I just always feel super self-conscious, like I have to constantly watch my back.

In fifth grade, I was totally part of the “in crowd” a.k.a the girls that get boobs first (oh, how everyone has caught up to me) and we used to roam around the playground as if we were the shit. Then in high school I tried all those girly activities like cheerleading and dance team, and I just couldn’t stand to be around that many girls all the time.

But not when I get alcohol in me. I can recall specific instances at parties when I’ve been drunk off my ass, and random girls I met would say, “I love you, can we be bee-eff-effs?” And tonight, I had a grand old time drinking red wine and shooting the shit with none other than four lovely ladies. 

I think it’s because alcohol makes you fearless, and the reason I’m so tense around groups of girls is that I’m fearing for my life. It’s also a competition thing. Most people don’t know this about me, but I’m extremely competitive in a weird, passive way. 

By the way, I’m typing this on a beer and two glasses of shiraz. I’m sure I’ll regret it later.

And the title of this post combined with the content sounds a little les-be-honest.

The chorus is actually “Obama, I wanna go surfing.” How awesome? And it’s such a summer song.

As sick as it sounds, it’s actually refreshing to stay up until the AMs working on stuff for school. I’ve had such a relaxed term with plenty of full nights of rest, and I feel kind of guilty for it.

Call me crazy, but I get kind of an adrenaline rush from the hardcore-ness of studio all-nighters. But maybe that’s just the feeling of pure caffeine pulsing through my veins. Either way I feel like I wasted a lot of potentially productive time this term dreaming about giant bathtubs full of hot fudge and LaMarcus Aldridge (and various combinations of the two). Staying up until the wee hours of the night makes me feel like I must have been productive, even though a good chunk of time was spent cracking up at responses to Linds’s ridiculous Craig’s list post.

I could be out right now watching a movie.

I could be out right now at a crazy dance party.

I could be out right now at the bars celebrating a friend’s birthday.

I could be out right now doing coke lines off a urinal, hitch hiking to San Fran, showing off my tits to make a quick buck, or making out with a stranger at the back of a rock and roll show.

But I’m here, with my macaroni-and-cheese colored text book lying wistfully beside me, waiting for me to stop procrastinating and crack it open. To quote myself upon waking to the grating ring of my alarm clock at 7:30 this morning, “just five more minutes…please.”

I’m kind of proud of myself for deciding to stay in tonight. If there’s one thing college has taught me how to forget, it’s how to say “No.” As an architecture major, I think I have this instinct to grab hold of and smother any social situation I can get my grubby Copic-stained hands on. It might also be because I’m a youngest child. I just have this huge fear of being left out, or missing something really amazing or important if I don’t go out with my friends. 

Whatever the reason, I don’t get a lot of time to stay home and do the important things, like catch up on reading for art history, or make a tumblr.

So maybe I’ll just kick back, relax, and use my macaroni-and-cheese colored text book for an ottoman.

San Fran can wait. And my tits aren’t that great anyway.