To 2014 & Beyond

Happy (late) New Year, everyone! (epecially those who got smooches at midnight. You go, Glenn Coco!)

This a special post for two reasons:

• It's the first post of 2014! Yay!
• It's my last post as a 20 year-old! 

So, 2013 was actually a very shitty year for me. I cried a lot. Shit, I'm still crying. Despite the many blessings I found last year, there is no denying the fact that 2013 brought many challenges and strenuous situations to my door. I'm very good at pretending that things are okay or ignoring the fact that sometimes I just need to walk away. I'm just a bit too stubborn to keep myself from doing those things, though. This past year gave me so many new experiences and new knowledge of life and the people around me. I figured out where my loyalties lie, where my love is able to grow, and to what lengths I'll go for those I love and care about no matter where they may be. I made a lot of mistakes that, in the end, in my opinion, gave me greater successes than just sitting back would. I discovered that I have greater and more powerful skills, talents, and ambitions than I thought. I learned that I'm a lot stronger and loving.

In 2013, I . . .

• Met my favorite band
• Had my first "real" job
• Took a big step toward my dream of having a writing career
• Learned how to help massive hickey's heal
• Learned I never want to have any massive hickey's ever again
• Successfully kept a blog for an entire year
• Learned to love like beer
• Ate way too many bags of Sour Patch Kids
• Kissed faces, hugged bodies
• Learned too many things about penises
• Cooked things that were edible (not penises)
• Smelled a lot like sweat and sweet&sour chicken

I have a lot of people to thank for giving me the tools and inspiration to make 2013 such a captivating year; a year that I'll never forget and a year that may go down in history (okay, okay, maybe just my lengthy and repetitive autobiography) as the most exhausting year of all years. From my own family (for never asking too many questions about things I'd rather them not know too much about) to the amazing writers I get to go to school with (for always giving me inspiration and letting me know I'm totally batshit crazy for putting a dead baby in a freezer), I'm so thankful for everyone who has touched my life. Julia - for never shutting up about anything; Bruce - for never leaving my side even after I've said something out of line or when things are too numb to touch; Tori - for just being you, doll (and always agreeing with my crazy ideas about boys and how stupid they are); Hannah - for meowing at my door at times when you didn't even know I needed it; Mel - for telling me my story plots are completely useless. Switchfoot - for making good music that eases the pain of all wounds. There are a lot of others out there, but I don't really feel like listing all of you.

So, here's to 2014: a year of new horizons and wide pastures to explore. From turning 21 (and finally being able to not go to bars as a personal choice) and seeing Panic! At The Disco in a few weeks to starting my last year as an undergraduate, I hope that 2014 brings things I want to remember; not just things I'll never forget.

So, here we go….

When The Girls Stop By For The Summer

Amen!

Well, it is very much official. I AM ON SUMMER VACATION, CAKE SNIFFERS! 

But, you know, I've still got that whole "perpetually unemployed" thing to resolve. We'll see what happens with that. But, other than that, I'm on vacation from EVERYTHING. And after the Hell of a semester I've just finished, I think I am pretty deserving of some major R&R and a big bag of Sour Patch Kids.

So, what are my plans for the summer? Nothing fancy or super exciting, I swear (ain't nobody got the money for that!). Actually, I don't really have plans. I'll probably just go with the flow, and take it one day at a time by sitting around complaining about the Oklahoma heat (no, not the Thunder, sorry) and  thinking about all the productive things I could potentially be doing instead of not sitting there doing nothing. But, I do have things I want to do (but that really means nothing because I always WANT to do things, but you know how it is). So, here's my "Optional Sensational Summer Bucket List" (Maybe you'll get some ideas as to what you might want to do with yourself this summer from how lame I really am).

1. Finish the book I've been reading for the last 2 months (The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold, for the curious reader)
2. Dip into my feminine side and do some of those DIY Pinterest craft things (which would require me to actually get a Pinterest account to begin with. Ugh.)
3. Get a job (shut up)
4. Lose 7 pounds / go down a jean size
5. Hit up the library and check out the erotica section and read it in public without an ounce of shame
6. Learn to use chopsticks
7. Throw out all the high school stuff I've been hoarding for the last million years
8. Immerse myself in historic Oklahoma culture by doing one of my favorite things: going to museums
9. Find a new song to be stuck on that isn't "Kokomo" by the Beach Boys (♫ Aruba, Jamaica, oooh I wanna take ya..♫)
10. Take it easy

Pretty much

So, now you guys know how lame I am when I have no immediate responsibilities or a routine to uphold. Hey, what can I say? I'm a college student with repressed ambition. 

But, let's be serious, if I can't get a job, I'll probably spend my entire summer feeling ashamed that I'm not worthy of making money and that list will just die like the dreams of angry men. I'll be a little Gavroche crawling through the barricade to my untimely and under-appreciated death. I'LL BE NOTHING BUT TROUBLE AGAIN AND AGAIN! Can someone please do a parody of "Red and Black" for me about my first world struggles? Les Mis, man. 

I'm just Chandler Bing, guys. 

The Romantic Gesture

I write more about romantic stuff than I actually do romantic stuff. Is that part of the curse of being a damaged writer who is forever single? Probably. 

So, I saw this retweet by Taco Bell on twitter (duhhh) and it was a girl talking about how she got asked to her prom via a verde sauce packet. Like, I guess he got a packet that had a blank white place to write your own message and he wrote "Prom?" in the space and gave it to her. Okay, maybe it is just the hopeless romantic that nests in my body all year long talking and controlling my mind, but this totally made me want a boyfriend (and no, not a creepy guy from the internet). And so I started to think about all the perfect ways a guy could propose going steady with me or asking me on a date that would just be completely irresistible to my girlish wonder.

Number one, and this will forever be a school girl fantasy for me, is through one of those stupid elementary school check-yes-or-no notes. I don't know why this approach to romance is so damn appealing to me, but it I don't think I could ever not say yes to one of those bastards (unless, of course,
the guy was a bastard... and then the cards change). Of course, sadly, I'm at an age now that doesn't really think that kind of gesture is appropriate. Instead, we just bump and grind and have casual sex with people we have no emotional attachments to. Adulthood, everyone! 

Number two is really for my inner fatass... also, I kind of stole this from The Princess Diaries, so shoot me. Anyway, a guy orders me a pizza (preferably cheese because who doesn't like cheese? Oh, right. Lactose intolerant bitches!) and then has the pizza place write out "Will you... [insert desired action here]?" in Sour Patch Kids on top. I know, it sounds totally gross, but I would eat the Sour Patch Kids before eating the pizza... maybe. Okay, I'd totally try them together, but who cares?   But, really, who could say no to that? Personally, I can't say no to pizza ever, so that's the best way to win my heart.

-___- Desmond and Daniel = Constants 4ever

Number three is also food related (damn, how have I lost 65 pounds with this much food on my mind?).  Okay, so, the guy gets a custom fortune cookie fortune made and puts it in a fortune cookie (really, Angela? you don't say?) and gives it to me after getting me chinese food. Of course, the fortune says something really cute like "Hey, sexy. Be my constant. Love, Daniel Faraday" or "Eat together, fat alone. jk. Let's be fat together." The LOST references are not optional.

Finally, concert proposals. I have been to way too many concerts where girls get proposed to by their boyfriends on stage or during the show at some point. I want that. That is like the most badass gesture in the book of gestures. If a guy could get, say, Jon Foreman, lead singer of Switchfoot, or another relevant member of a band to be like "Hey, this guy loves you lots. Go out with him/ marry him, okay?" That'd probably have a very high feedback rating. But that's just my opinion.

So, pretty much, my stomach is my heart. But is that really a surprise to anyone? 

Did I Do That?

Have you ever been talking to someone you've known for a while and then, totally out of the blue, they ask you if you remember a really embarrassing moment that happened a long time ago? That happens to me all the time. I remember pretty much everything that can be considered worth remembering or even worth forgetting, but every once in a while, someone brings up something and I have no idea what they are talking about.

Me: ... and then my toe turned blue and I nearly pissed myself. My life is so cray-cray unbelievable sometimes!
Them: Speaking of your life! Do you remember that time when you snort-farted on that one Thursday in that one class that one year when you were wearing that blue shirt?

Lindsey, it's the crack talking!

Me: I have no idea what you're talking about.
Them: You're shitting me! You've got to remember it! It was a classic Angela moment!
Me: No, I really don't.
Me: Am I being Punk'd?
Me: Do I get to meet Ashton?
Them: What?
Me: What?

So, after that, I'm just obsessed with trying to remember this one moment of my life that, of all the mortifying things that have happened to me, I seem to have repressed from my memory. And that string of thoughts morphs into me thinking about how many other memories I don't remember that someone else remembers and will probably tell stories about without me being aware at all. How many blackmail-worthy memories about me are out there that I don't know about? Probably a million. And when I'm totally famous and have millions of dollars, you just know that ALL of the embarrassing stories are going to come out from under the bed of my life.

I'm not ashamed of my past or the moments that I'd probably love to have never happened. I'm just going to be very pissed if I find out old classmates or best friends are making money off my humiliation. I want to cash-in on that sucker. It's my life, after all! I deserve to be monetizing myself! Who needs prostitution when you can get paid for being totally awkward and clumsy? Don't sell your body, sell your pain!

He looks sad and homeless. What's with
the Eddie Munster hair? It's totally because
of the diabetes. 

And let's face it, I'll probably need the extra cash to pay for my diabetes (pronounced die-uh-beat-us) medication (because y'all know I'm going to totally have high glucose levels for the rest of my life from all the Sour Patch Kids I eat every week) that I'll buy out of pocket because I'll be too lazy to fill out forms for health insurance.

Wait. Where was I going with this? 

Anyway, the lesson here is that you should never leave your house because then there are absolutely no chances of doing anything in the least bit embarrassing where people will actually see you and then proceed to form memories about that embarrassing moment involving you. Also, if you never leave your house, your chances of dying probably go down so that's a bonus! Also, don't sell your body to pay for insulin. It's not worth it. Look how Nick Jonas turned out.

New life goal: Don't become Nick Jonas. Or smoke crack. 

Play Nice, February

Hello, February! I see you've slimmed down some since last year! *leap year jokes!* 

Typically, I'm totally cool with February. Nasty-gourmet-chocolate-everyone-says-tastes-good is in high demand. It's almost always possible to get your hands on those amazing Twilight and One Direction Valentines at the drugstore (I mean, who doesn't want to tell someone they love them with Kristen Stewarts pale-ass face or a random British boy? Seriously.). I get to remember how complicated my nonexistent love life is for a consecutive 28 days. Then, after I've wallowed in self-pity, I'll get to indulge in the gourmet-chocolate Sour Patch Kids that my boyfriend  I got me myself, and we'll live happily-ever-after  then I'll go cuddle with my body pillow. See? February is awesome to me.

So, like every new month, I've set out some goals for myself (because what is life without some fun structured living?)

Credit: http://ohshrubbery.deviantart.com/art/Chocolate-54158604

1. Don't die.That's simple and self-explanatory. 
2. Don't spend all my money on unnecessary band merchandise or t-shirts with clever sayings or quotes from TV shows to compensate for the fact that I am single (We get it, IT'S NOT PENNY'S BOAT!). Ever since I got my debit card, it seems like I just can't keep it in my wallet for very long. I always have this itch to buy things online. Is it my longing to receive things in the mail? Maybe. That's not the point, though. The point is I have a problem, and money doesn't grow on trees. 
3. Don't eat the chocolate! I don't even like chocolate, but, for some reason, when it's around, I eat all the chocolate anyway. It's really sad. What did I ever do to be cursed in such a disgusting way? 
4. Gawk less at attractive people while in public. It's really just not even enjoyable anymore. Like, I get it. You're really good looking, and I have no chance of getting your attention with my messy hair and baggy clothes. Besides, I've got my heart set on bigger things. (Like a really big bag of Sour Patch Kids). I don't need the temptations! Get behind me, Satan!
5. Be weird. Okay, I'll try. It's not going to be easy coming down from such a high pedestal of weirdness, but I'll try. 

In all seriousness, people take February way too seriously. It's a month, not a 28-day-long holiday that allows you to waste your money on chocolate and have lots of sex.


Despite all the commercialism involved with February and Valentine's Day, it's really not any different from any other month of the year. Well, I guess it is slightly better because there are only 28 days, which means fewer days to be bad days, fewer days to get your heart smashed and ripped apart by careless ne'er-do-wells, fewer days to be told by your mother-in-law that you need to hit the gym and lay off the sweets, fewer days to neglect actually working on your New Year resolutions, and fewer days to convince your 15 year-old sister she needs to get her ass to rehab for that unflattering Coke addiction.  February is short, so live your days to the fullest. 


Or you can just continue to do what you're doing and live in fear of actually enjoying your life and feeling good about your choices because it's just easier than getting up off your lazy ass and greeting the world with a badass attitude. That's okay too, I guess.

Also, in honor of February, here's some tasteful music by Josh Groban: