Orange Mashugana

Long time, no blog, right? Oh well! I have good excuses for why I failed to write much over the last week or so. Like, oh, I don't know... That I AM NO LONGER UNEMPLOYED! 

Yup, yup! You heard it! My streak of perpetual unemployment seems to be not as perpetual as I once assumed. That, kids, just shows that you shouldn't count your chickens before they hatch. Anyway, the last four days of my life have been pretty booked up, so I hope I can make it up to anyone who has actually missed reading about my life, thoughts, and other mashugana that I come up with from somewhere deep inside the crevices of my fragile mind.

So, last night, I got off work and went over to the Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market to get a sick Bruce some orange juice (how nice am I? Seriously?). Okay, let me just say that this Wal-Mart is open 24/7, so when I went prancing in at 10:30 at night, I really wasn't sure what kind of crowd I was going to see. Well, apparently, it's just workers restocking things. To be honest, I was hoping for a late-night crowd of crackheads, but when has Wal-Mart ever actually met my expectations of anything? Never. 

I found the orange juice in the maze of aisles and sectioned off arrays of baked goods that I really wanted to buy but talked myself out of eventually. When I was looking at the small selection of orange juice that was at my disposal, I realized I had no idea what any of the information on any of the containers meant. "Made from concentrate?" What? What the hell does that mean? Was it made by a worker who was really concentrated on making the best bottle of OJ ever? And what about pulp vs no
pulp vs extra pulp? Personally, I hate the feeling of drinking pulp so I always opt for the no pulp, but what if pulp is actually really good for you and pretty much the only nutritionally beneficial element of a bottle of OJ? This was really something to think about especially since I was buying it for someone who was sick, you know? 

Eventually, I just grabbed a big bottle of Tropicana without pulp because it had the prettiest label. I'm sure that says plenty of untrue things about me. 

I'm sure this story had a point, but, a few Sour Punch Straws later, I can't remember what that might have been.

Being an adult and having to make choices like "Which is the healthiest brand of orange juice?" just kind of freaks me out. Like, I have no idea how people walk into grocery stores and know what all the labels mean. Sure, I know not to buy anything with high-fructose corn syrup (or really anything with corn in it) or artificial sweeteners that rhyme with gross, but what else should I know? I can't Google every grocery product individually like "Are Sour Punch Straws bad for me?" because I'd be in the store for the rest of time. But, idiots shop for groceries. So, I don't know.

So, I guess the point of this is that there should only be one brand of OJ and it should be the healthiest OJ ever because I am incapable of picking out a bottle of juice.

Now That You're An Adult In College ...

Because your breath smells terrible and it's blowing in my face right now

... You should already know how to tame your horrendous assfart morning breath. Please don't make me sit next to you in class or in a car or just be in the same one-mile radius of you if you have a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad smell protruding from your mouth. No, coffee doesn't make your breath smell better. It makes it worse. Like way worse than you can probably imagine. Have you ever tried eating or popping a piece of gum in before heading out into the real world? Brushing your teeth doesn't finish the job. Please, don't kill me this early in the morning. I am a good person (kind of), and do not deserve this kind of torture.

... You should already know how to share communal spaces. Didn't we learn this in like pre-school when we were 4? I'm pretty sure I spent most of my time when I was 4 picking my nose, watching Barney and Friends, and peeing my pants, yet I still managed to grasp that shared spaces are shared... not dominated by your rudeness and inconsiderate nature. Why are you still not understanding that if 4 people are sharing a dorm bathroom, you can't pretend that you own the shower and can just casually leave every single shampoo, conditioner, and razor that you own in it? Are you the spawn of Satan? The same goes for getting your fugly hair out of the drain when you're finished. I ain't no maid. I'm not going to clean that shit up for you because it's disgusting. Don't get mad at me when I move your over-priced salon shampoo because I need to put my stuff there for my 15-minute shower. I paid for that space too.

... You should already know no one is required to like or even tolerate your whiney self. Remember how in elementary school everyone was forced to get along and you had to be nice or you'd get in trouble? You can pretty much forget all of that. Yes, you should respect people because that is common courtesy, but you are not required to be associated with assholes and douchebags and bitches who you don't even like. Thus, if I don't like you or want people to think I like you because I really don't like you, I'm probably going to avoid you at all costs. Please don't take my absence as me playing hard to get or fearing that I might come on as clingy. That's not it. I just don't like you. And you don't have to like me.

... You should already know how to keep your crush on the professor a secret. Yes, I'm talking about you, girl in my religious studies class. We all know you're hot for teacher. Not only does it make him uncomfortable, but it also makes class just a tad bit awkward to sit through. It's like watching animals at the zoo mate. No one really wants to see that, so, please, keep it in your pants, girl. He's married, and you're... you, so I think it's safe if you just keep your creepy affections to yourself. Yes, he's hot. Everyone knows he's good looking in that weird teacher way, but you don't see anyone else flinging themselves at him all through class. Just saying.

... You should already know that the real world isn't a nice place. Yeah, I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but it's kind of mostly true. People are mean and sometimes shitty stuff happens to sort of-okay people. You're probably not the only one who is having a bad day or week, so please don't act like it. We're all living in this world with you, so we get it. And, you know, we'd all love to hear you complain or read your 3 am tweet rant from last night, but we really just don't care. If this was the 7th grade and Johnny Bravo had kissed your arch nemesis and your mom forgot to put a pack of Disney Princess Fruit Snacks in your lunch, we'd probably understand and sympathize. But it's not the 7th grade. This is  adulthood. Suck it up. 

The Harsh Truth About College

In high school, everyone and their long lost cousin tells you that college is worth the brutal torture that is high school, that your college years will be some of the best years of your life. I'm still waiting to see what all the fuss about college is to these people. Like, maybe their high school years were the trots, so, naturally, college sucked way less for them? Maybe they were one of the lucky ones who didn't completely lose their sanity (or maybe they did.... and that's why they think college is the bomb dot com) in the hectic mess of college courses, drunken nights, and the horrid freshman 15. Now, I don't think that college necessarily is the worst thing ever (trust me, it isn't), but I feel like there are a lot of things that get overlooked once you're out of the system.

Welcome to the real world. 

Everyone wants to know about what you've got planned for your future or what you're going to do with your useless writing degree. No matter what your major is or if you're still in that awkward "undecided" rut, you probably have some kind of idea of what you might want to do once you've got your degree and are finally free to make all kinds of batshit crazy mistakes with your life. I think people have this idea that whatever you study in college must be something that is going to get you a job that will put you in a higher tax bracket and allow you to send your kids to a snooty private school that might resemble Hogwarts. Why is that? So, naturally, when I tell people I'm a writing major, they automatically tell me that I'm probably not going to make it and should consider a major in business or decide to go pre-law or whatever. It sucks to be unsure of your own life choices, but when other people start poking around, trying to keep you from living.... Well, that takes all the fun out of majoring in something you love. It's like everyone tells you to do what you love but then, when you've decided to take that pretty piece of advice, tell you you're throwing your future away by doing so.  Thus, we all have majors we hate with classes that screw us over every single day and Mom and Dad's reserved nod of approval. 

You're a broke-ass pathetic zombie all the time.  It doesn't matter if you promptly go to bed at a time before midnight and sleep until noon, you're constantly tired. It's the kind of tired that never ends. I think it's called growing up.   Say goodbye to your stain-free pearly whites and hello to a large energy drink that could possibly kill you since you doubled your dose of Adderall a few seconds before guzzling it.  Oh? What's that? You just spent your last five bucks on that energy drink? No one cares! Get a job... oh wait... you can't get a job because your schedule is packed and, let's face it, you're way too damn tired to hold any kind of position anywhere. College is so much fun, ain't it? 

Greek pressure exists. So, maybe you decided not to follow the herd of goats headed to the Greek factory to be slaughtered, and maybe you did... I don't care. I can't tell you how many sorority or fraternity members I have talked to who have let slip that they actually kind of hate the Greek life. There is a limit on the partying, and, when that goes away and the beer goggles come off, you see how much of a mess you've gotten yourself into. Am I really paying this much money to share one bathroom with all of these people? Now, I totally understand why people go Greek, and, for the most part, it's all really beneficial to your future, but when you feel pressured into rushing or pledging Greek because it's "what all the cool kids are doing" and then learn you absolutely hate it, well, you can pretty much say farewell to having a happy college life. And then, of course, there is the disapproving gaze from the campus Plastics towards those who decided they like wearing pants that aren't leggings (because some people don't want to look like they are headed to the gym all day long, thank you very much). Now, tell me that doesn't make you feel like a total recalled Barbie doll. It totally sucks.

Let me know when you figure it out, Belle.

It sucks major Tootsie Pop when you realize you're just a speck of dust on a giant dust bunny under someone's bed. In a lecture hall thats filled with over 400 people just like you, you start to feel like you don't even matter. This professor will never notice me or learn my name because he just doesn't care. It's easy to get caught-up in the system of robotically taking notes and writing papers and barely getting by on exams (because we're not all lucky to have photographic memories or natural test-taking abilities). And, yes, you're lucky if you stand out to a professor or to really anyone who you don't already call a friend or a significant other. Some people wonder why college students get depressed or self-harm or worse.... and, you know, it's because college can make you feel like you're alone and voiceless because everyone is talking at once. There is no order or rule or talking stick to pass around while you sit criss-cross-applesauce on the floor. You either speak boldly or get washed away in the sound.

If you're in college, you may agree or disagree on these things, and, if you're in high school still, don't worry. You're safe for now.