DREARY JANUARY POST

Hello world, as I prepare to embark on another epic cross-Atlantic sojourn back to my ship of indentured servitude, I will attempt to make some semblance of a non-alcohol related post. OR SOMETHING. It's been rainy and awful this whole trip back home and I don't know whether it's my horrible personality coming out or my age shining through but SRSLY, I am reminded each time I return to the Bay that this is not where I want to be (these are not the droids you are looking for).

Here are things I would rather be doing:

- Happy hour and appetizers at Katsuya in Studio City

- Pub crawl in Manhattan Beach

- Afternoon perusing at 3rd St.

- Irresponsible midday movie at Century City

- Drinking my face off in Hollywood

- Visiting bffs in the OC (don't call it that)

- Weekend trips to Palm Springs

Ok, I have a date with LA in 2014 and it's one I don't intend to break.

I UPDATE NOW WHILE INEBRIATED

Today I slipped into the holiday spirit by beginning alcohol consumption at the ripe hour of 10 am with a light helping of 10-year-old whiskey from a CASK. This was soon followed up with:

- hot cider + apple brandy

- hot vanilla vodka + amaretto

- hot chocolate + rum

- hot chocolate + bailey's

This would lead me to believe that my weekends have now transformed into an unfavorable routine where I play the plum role of town drunkard and have constant love/hate theoretical txt msgs w/ my worked-to-death liver. Here is how I assume these interactions would go:

Liver: tireeeed

Me: shutup, u and earn ur keep

Stomach: sup guys

Me: ur old news

We all chuckle and laugh about this jaunt into mild alcoholism but geez me, ORLY? I'm pretty sure near the end of the night, I drunkenly purchased another knit sweater and earmuffs in the shape of penguins.

And anti-wrinkle eye cream. SINCE I GOTS TO TAKE CARE OF SELF

AMIRITE?

Also, I may need to consume enough water to deplete the Central Valley irrigation system for two years. Ughhhhh.

WANTED: on call +1 to activities/functions/travels

One of the greatest challenges in life is finding a someone with whom you can spend long durations of time on a 1-on-1 basis without feeling the need to punch them in the face. It just so happens that many of the fun things I want to do would often be easier/ go smoother/ be more enjoyable if there was another person in the mix. I guess SOME people would call this "finding a spouse" (but these people are likely mopey, lovesick virgins). What I really need is the ultimate "+1."

Requirements:

- you are above average in terms of athleticism

- you are not afraid of nature

- you are willing to try new things

- we can make each other laugh

- you are willing to partake in my absurd demands for photograph + willing to pose in oft-embarrassing ways for amusement's sake

- you do not make comments about my eating habits

- you are financially prudent rather than one who makes I-have-no-money a constant topic of conversation in a way that insinuates you want me to pay for things

- you are not averse to alcoholic beverages

- you dress appropriately for the occasion

- you are NOT afflicted with indecision

- you do not suddenly disappear off the face of the earth when you are dating someone NOR do you suddenly prioritize this new significant other to the detriment of your actual friends

- you do not FLAKE ON ME with little or no notice

If girl:

- you do not "dress up" to clearly grueling/grimy activities

- you are not a mindless robot who thinks any handbag with ... LV classic print, Coach "C" print, Gucci "G" print is the height of ~fashion~

- you better be able to do it to it/suck it up/etc. when SHIT GETS REAL

If guy:

- you own shoes besides sneakers + Converse

- you do not engage in the constant game of let's-compare-resumes

- just because I'm a girl does not mean I want to hear about your ~feelings~ or ~hopes & dreams~

- we are splitting the bill, don't argue

Dear Life,

So we meet again, after many months of absence. I had missed you whilst necessarily cut off from society in my hovel of an apartment and often dreamed of the day when we would be reunited. Apparently that time is now and apparently, I AM NOT READY.

I still go through all my days thinking I should be studying, should be watching lectures, should be preparing for something. But persnaps it is merely my subconscious telling me that I am not ready for REAL LIFE to begin. Because it is beginning and soon. In two months I will (finally) have a real job in a different city in a different country in a different continent in a motherfucking totally different cellular network. Yup SHIT GETTING REAL all up in huuuurrrr.

Anyway. I must ~reorganize~ thoughts, life, etc. etc. and will begin by actually writing down these thoughts like its SRS BSNS. In a way, I am finally getting what I want after 7 years of turmoil and awkwardness. Though I am still a clueless 16-year-old on the inside, the world seems to want me to finally get over myself and get my ish together. So here's to us, LIFE.

xoxo,

Me

Poorly Written b/c I'm Sleeeeepy

I am on vacation but it feels like anything but. I don't know when home transformed from a much-anticipated getaway to a place I can't wait to get away from. Is it the weather? The infestation of hybrid car technology on every road? The fact that my nonfat, sugar-free, vegan, organic LA perception can't seem to accept free convention tshirts + jeans + sneakers as viable fashion choices? It's hard to say.

Lately I've been mentally perusing that fine line between friendship and acquaintance. Although I used to be perfectly fine with possessing a gaggle of the latter, my post-undergrad self is now more and more interested in the former. I know, I know, apparently not so much of a robot after all. It's hard for girls to give up the dream of "being popular" and as Mean Girls said, "I guess she just likes the attention." Ahhh so true. But I am tired of accommodating the mental handicaps, the emotional fuckwittery, the hypocritical complaints, and the general bemoaning of unsubstantial hardships so very popular with mopey quarter-life-crisis-sufferers the world over. What they want is sympathy that the icebox where my heart used to be lacks the capacity to produce and what I manage to conjure up instead sounds eerily similar to Whitney's post-LC-crisis dialogue on an episode of The Hills.

I've also thought about writing more about school on this blog but I don't want it to turn into a law school blog. It doesn't help that the only 1L law school blog from my school is written by an uber boring chick with the personality of cardboard, the writing style of drying paint, and the content coverage of QVC. I did recently attend one of those holiday booze sessions hosted by Generic Firm LLP where I saw the usual crowd of attendees from many past receptions. As we stood in our awkward business casual gear and metaphorically compared penis size through our mastery of small talk, I wondered when my peers had taken the time to morph into hideous men with couch upholstery-status ties and judgmental women who really needed to evaluate the intensity of their make up application.

Goal for next semester: BE LESS ROBOTIC, make more friends, avoid scary competitive ppul at all costs