So it's almost 1 AM and I only got three hours of sleep last night because I hosted the most amazingly fun party ever that night and I should be rejoicing while collapsing into my bed, but that isn't going to happen tonight because my brain decided to make me be spontaneous and want to blog right now. Here we go.
The title of this post is kinda meh, and it's probably really misleading. I mean, I'm gonna start talking about love as soon as I'm done rambling but first I need to finish rambling, ja feel? (10 points for the person who gets the movie reference.)
ANYWAY, so yes, last night was this wonderful party for my wonderful friend Lindsay, who turned 18. I've known her less than a year, but she's easily one of my best friends. I love relationships like that. I think God put those people on Earth to give us hope. Hope that there are good people out there, hope that we can find our soul mates among our friends.
That last bit kind of made it sound like I'm a lesbian, didn't it? I'm not a lesbian. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
That's not the point of this post. This is going to be really long, I feel like.
Anyway. You were there. And at first I was so scared when you called and said you were at my house so I screamed and dragged Gabi into the bathroom with me so I could have a panic attack. Because I tried so hard to look pretty. I wanted so badly for you to think that I'm pretty. Do you think I'm pretty? What goes through your mind when you see me? I want so badly to know your thoughts again. I remember when you actually told me things. We used to sit together those summer nights and I'd rest my head on you, smelling your cigarette but not caring. Whenever I walk past someone smoking the same cigarettes, my heart skips a beat because it reminds me of you.
You came and sat with me on the patio. I was alone, but you sat next to me and talked to me. I didn't even have to ask. Why did you do that? And in the cold evening air, I wanted to pull you close to me and taste the alcohol on your lips and look at your perfect, sweet smile. There's a picture from that night where I'm being completely ridiculous and you're barely in the picture, but I can see you smiling. What made you smile?
I miss knowing that I was the thing that made you smile.
We talked so much that night. It felt so natural, so right. Did you feel the same way, or was it the alcohol working through your veins, making you horny, too comfortable? Sitting on the stairs, we had to be close. It was so perfect. I wonder if you ever see what I see, think about the things I imagine. Is that why you've turned your back on me so many times? Does the future scare you? Or are you a lost little boy, not done having his fun?
Either way, I understand. It may not be what I want, but I have to understand how you feel. I couldn't force us upon you.
Yet when you said goodbye, you lingered. You leaned into me, but we did not kiss. Your eyelashes were long and your cheeks were flushed. You truly are the most perfect person I've ever seen. Your hands were warm on my back and the way you touched me sent electricity up my spine. You made me feel cliché in the most perfect way. What did all of this mean? Because I knew tomorrow things would go back to the way they always were. Brief words exchanged, nothing meaningful. I would once again return to being nothing to you.
But can I tell you something? In that moment, I didn't care. I reveled in my happiness. I learned to just be happy for the moments you gave me that made my heart flutter the way it used to.
That is what love is.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
The Fault in Our Stars UPDATE
I finished Stars only a few minutes ago.
It's safe to say that I will never read that book again. I feel so sad, so scared. I can honestly say that I am a weak person who is terrified of death in any shape or form. However, you all know by now that cancer in specific is a touchy subject for me.
I truly cannot understand why people love this book, yet I cannot justify calling it "bad."
The writing is nice. Not too flowery, but certainly detailed enough for tumblr-worthy quotes.
Yet for me, it is too sad. It isn't this beautiful love story that I had hoped it would be. Augustus and Hazel are supposed to have this amazing, beautiful, profound love, but I felt that I rarely saw it throughout the book. Their relationship seemed so incomplete by the time things took a turn for the worse.
Perhaps I couldn't see it because I've never truly lost someone I was in love with, because I don't know what it's like knowing that the person I love so much is going to die and leave me alone, but there is one thing that stayed with me while finishing the book and the crying that ensued immediately thereafter.
I have a greater appreciation for love than ever before. How grateful am I that I can see the one I love so often, knowing that he is not sick, not dying. And maybe he doesn't love me back, but I'd rather have that than not be able to love him anymore, not see him anymore, because he has left this earth. More than ever I realize that love is truly the most powerful thing in the world, more powerful than death, because true love continues on through literally anything.
If you love someone, don't let him go. If he tells you he doesn't love you, he can't love you, give him his space. But keep a special place in your heart for him no matter what. There is a reason why he was there in the first place.
It's safe to say that I will never read that book again. I feel so sad, so scared. I can honestly say that I am a weak person who is terrified of death in any shape or form. However, you all know by now that cancer in specific is a touchy subject for me.
I truly cannot understand why people love this book, yet I cannot justify calling it "bad."
The writing is nice. Not too flowery, but certainly detailed enough for tumblr-worthy quotes.
Yet for me, it is too sad. It isn't this beautiful love story that I had hoped it would be. Augustus and Hazel are supposed to have this amazing, beautiful, profound love, but I felt that I rarely saw it throughout the book. Their relationship seemed so incomplete by the time things took a turn for the worse.
Perhaps I couldn't see it because I've never truly lost someone I was in love with, because I don't know what it's like knowing that the person I love so much is going to die and leave me alone, but there is one thing that stayed with me while finishing the book and the crying that ensued immediately thereafter.
I have a greater appreciation for love than ever before. How grateful am I that I can see the one I love so often, knowing that he is not sick, not dying. And maybe he doesn't love me back, but I'd rather have that than not be able to love him anymore, not see him anymore, because he has left this earth. More than ever I realize that love is truly the most powerful thing in the world, more powerful than death, because true love continues on through literally anything.
If you love someone, don't let him go. If he tells you he doesn't love you, he can't love you, give him his space. But keep a special place in your heart for him no matter what. There is a reason why he was there in the first place.
Friday, March 15, 2013
The Fault in Our Stars
So the other night I began reading "The Fault in Our Stars" by John Green. This books is kind of a big deal, apparently. Everyone on tumblr is obsessed with it, that's for sure. It's a love story about Hazel, a 16-year-old cancer patient, and Augustus, who also had cancer.
I'm not sure about you guys, but cancer is a really touchy subject for me. My grandpa, who I still idolize to this day, died of stomach cancer when I was 13. It was probably one of the worst times of my life, and now I'm terrified of cancer more than ever. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly thrilled with the whole "cancer" aspect of this book. However, the dialogue is clever and Hazel's narration is extremely relatable, so I'm going to give it a try.
I really enjoy love stories, but they make me so sad too, you know? I guess it just stems from my desire to be loved. Deep down, I know every person in this world wants to feel loved. I don't care about the bullshit people say about not liking or wanting to be in relationships; it's all a lie. The desire to feel wanted or loved is a central aspect of being human.
I wanted to show you guys the book, but this was mostly an excuse to take a selfie.
I'm not sure about you guys, but cancer is a really touchy subject for me. My grandpa, who I still idolize to this day, died of stomach cancer when I was 13. It was probably one of the worst times of my life, and now I'm terrified of cancer more than ever. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly thrilled with the whole "cancer" aspect of this book. However, the dialogue is clever and Hazel's narration is extremely relatable, so I'm going to give it a try.
I really enjoy love stories, but they make me so sad too, you know? I guess it just stems from my desire to be loved. Deep down, I know every person in this world wants to feel loved. I don't care about the bullshit people say about not liking or wanting to be in relationships; it's all a lie. The desire to feel wanted or loved is a central aspect of being human.
I wanted to show you guys the book, but this was mostly an excuse to take a selfie.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Jen Lancaster
Since my freshman year of high school, I believe, I have been a fan of the wonderfully witty, sarcastic, and hilarious author Jen Lancaster. Her first memoir, Bitter is the New Black, completely captivated me. I saw how someone could be a talented and successful writer not by making up stories, but by chronicling the wonderful, sad, and frustrating moments of everyday life. Since then, she's published several more memoirs and two works of fiction, all of which I've read.
Today, I was lucky enough to meet an author I've admired for years at a book signing in Naperville. Jen was amazing, answering questions, telling stories, and making everyone around her laugh. She truly is the woman in her books. When it was finally my turn, I was freaking out. I have a tendency to do that, as well as go completely silent, in front of anyone remotely famous that I admire.
When I walked up, I cleared the air by explaining that yes, I was both nervous and excited to meet her because she's one of my favorite authors. She then asked with genuine interest what other authors I liked. I, being a moron, responded, "Shakespeare." Don't get me wrong, I do absolutely love Bill's work, but COME ON. SO pretentious. She said it was great to meet me, and the entire time she just seemed so genuine and down to earth, as if her enormous success as an author hadn't changed her at all. I left with a huge grin on my face and the reassurance that with hard work, even a woman who took 11 years to complete college could have tons of success and happiness. I knew then, more than ever, I needed to pursue my own dreams. I wanted to connect with people, make them laugh with my stories. So, Jen, if you ever somehow see this, thank you. You are one of the reasons why I won't give up on myself.
Today, I was lucky enough to meet an author I've admired for years at a book signing in Naperville. Jen was amazing, answering questions, telling stories, and making everyone around her laugh. She truly is the woman in her books. When it was finally my turn, I was freaking out. I have a tendency to do that, as well as go completely silent, in front of anyone remotely famous that I admire.
When I walked up, I cleared the air by explaining that yes, I was both nervous and excited to meet her because she's one of my favorite authors. She then asked with genuine interest what other authors I liked. I, being a moron, responded, "Shakespeare." Don't get me wrong, I do absolutely love Bill's work, but COME ON. SO pretentious. She said it was great to meet me, and the entire time she just seemed so genuine and down to earth, as if her enormous success as an author hadn't changed her at all. I left with a huge grin on my face and the reassurance that with hard work, even a woman who took 11 years to complete college could have tons of success and happiness. I knew then, more than ever, I needed to pursue my own dreams. I wanted to connect with people, make them laugh with my stories. So, Jen, if you ever somehow see this, thank you. You are one of the reasons why I won't give up on myself.
Hi there.
Where should I begin this post? I suppose I should probably give random biographic information about myself.
My name is Michelle. 18, extra short, obnoxious boobs (that I love, don't get me wrong), college freshman at Northwestern University. I was majoring in journalism, which is NU's forte, but I'm pretty sure I'll be switching to English my sophomore year.
You see, I've kind of had an identity crisis my freshman year. Over the summer, I broke up with my boyfriend of almost two years. It was pretty rocky, I'm not going to lie. I then proceeded to fall pathetically in love with the brother of one of my closest friends. Our "relationship," though never official, was perfect for a short while but got weird shortly thereafter. I'm still struggling with the "friendzone" and have a mini panic attack whenever I see him. So attractive, I know.
Northwestern is a whole other story. I can't decide if I like it there or not. I haven't clicked with as many people as I'd like to, considering I had a ton of friends in high school and was involved in a ton of clubs & activities. Typical overachieving teenager of the 21st century. As much as I question my choice of university, I know I busted my ass to get to where I am now and I deserve my spot at NU. Also, to be frank, I really wanted to prove wrong every asshole that ever insulted my intelligence. So no matter what, NU it is. I'm totes gonna get my Master's from there, too. Bam.
I also really like tattoos. As I'm writing this, I have three, but I should be getting my fourth in a matter of weeks. I'll post about my ink later, don't worry.
To wrap things up, I want to explain why I'm writing this blog: I want to be a writer. A real writer who gets published and has an agent and goes on book tours. I want people to be inspired by me, to be able to relate to my experiences, and to find comfort in my words. This blog, I hope, will help me get there.
My name is Michelle. 18, extra short, obnoxious boobs (that I love, don't get me wrong), college freshman at Northwestern University. I was majoring in journalism, which is NU's forte, but I'm pretty sure I'll be switching to English my sophomore year.
You see, I've kind of had an identity crisis my freshman year. Over the summer, I broke up with my boyfriend of almost two years. It was pretty rocky, I'm not going to lie. I then proceeded to fall pathetically in love with the brother of one of my closest friends. Our "relationship," though never official, was perfect for a short while but got weird shortly thereafter. I'm still struggling with the "friendzone" and have a mini panic attack whenever I see him. So attractive, I know.
Northwestern is a whole other story. I can't decide if I like it there or not. I haven't clicked with as many people as I'd like to, considering I had a ton of friends in high school and was involved in a ton of clubs & activities. Typical overachieving teenager of the 21st century. As much as I question my choice of university, I know I busted my ass to get to where I am now and I deserve my spot at NU. Also, to be frank, I really wanted to prove wrong every asshole that ever insulted my intelligence. So no matter what, NU it is. I'm totes gonna get my Master's from there, too. Bam.
I also really like tattoos. As I'm writing this, I have three, but I should be getting my fourth in a matter of weeks. I'll post about my ink later, don't worry.
To wrap things up, I want to explain why I'm writing this blog: I want to be a writer. A real writer who gets published and has an agent and goes on book tours. I want people to be inspired by me, to be able to relate to my experiences, and to find comfort in my words. This blog, I hope, will help me get there.
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