Category Archives: NutellaIsMyBoyfriend

Move to Trash

~Shoutout to Wreck Beach for keeping me sane~

This blog would not exist if I wasn’t honest with what’s happening, and what’s not happening.

This month has really been a trying time for me. Real talks.

I’ve attempted to put this whole month into a blog post, like four times, already, and I’ve just ended up clicking the ‘move to trash’ button.

That’s the thing. It’s really easy to throw everything away, but starting over is a daunting feat.

—

I did something recently.  It was kind of an impulse decision, but I still did it. I quit my job.

It’s something that I’ve been doing for just over three years, and sadly it grew extremely banal for me recently.  That, and to be honest, my academic progress is rather lacking, to put it lightly.

I’m not putting the time I should be into school work, because frankly I find most of the stuff we’re doing to be trivial.

-pause for a moment, as I hover over the ‘move to trash’ button, yet again-

Nope, nope. I’m still here.

—

Here’s the thing: I’m lost.

I’m feel really lost, right now. In all of this stuff. It’s like swimming in the middle of the ocean, and I don’t see any islands or ships, and all I taste is sea water, which I liked to begin with, but now I’m just dehydrated, and burnt out.

I’ve been dealing with this feeling for like the last two weeks, and it’s heavy.  It’s not something I wish on anyone; to carry this burden around of not feeling like you’re in the correct place.

Like, you’re some sort of visitor to your own life, and you have to wear the ‘Visitor’ lanyard, which sticks out a lot, and everyone knows that you’re not a regular.

—

I had all these plans for next year. They all seemed so grand, and everything.  I said, “I’m not going to get attached to them. I don’t want to get my hopes or anything.” But I totally did. I attached myself to them, because it seemed like an upgrade to be in a different place.

And, now in this place that I didn’t really plan for, and I feel like I’m a warden of the State or something.

—

Starting over is something I hate.

But, it’s exactly what I need to do right now to get myself out of what I’ve landed in.

Perhaps, in the coming week, I will not eat an ENTIRE jar of Nutella. (pause of LOLs…) I mean seriously, I was just MAOWing.

Maybe, I’ll actually do some real editing of the stuff I need to turn-in.

Possibly, I’ll stop staying in bed for an hour, after I wake up.

HAAAAAAAAA..

—

I will find myself somewhere in the mountain of clothes on my bed, in the spilled wax on my chest of drawers, in the empty mugs on my desk, in the old to-do list, in not noticing cars when I decide to go for a run, in every mediocre grade.

Something good will come of this.

You know why?

Because everyone loves a comeback story.

 

Phreshman Year

hey, so i totally disappeared for a month, and i apologize for that, but sometimes writing is not really what you think it should be and you have like loads of things that you’ve started blogging about that are just sitting in your draft folder that don’t actually turn into anything.

—

click. clack.

—

So, I’m going to be super narcissistic and write about my uni lyfe. cause it’s all happening. and it’s happening fast.

here are the things about phreshmen year that are making me tick. and tock:

Identity Crisis
—

I had a pile of clothes and hangers on the ground today, because like, i dont actually know what my style is anymore. I mean like things are preppy and then some things are punk and then some things are straight up leopard print. like, what is MEE-OW?

but, like stocking up on more black, grey, white, and navy is always a thing close to my heart.

and then im like WOW i should be more social. i should friend more people on facebook and take an active role in making a name for myself. why dont more people like my profile picture? i need to instagram more. i need more friends on snapchat so that i can snap them more selfies of me eating out of the nutella jar.

and, then my writing style is a constant identity crisis, because there is how i’m writing right now, super casual, and then there’s also like write-your-seven-page-paper writing and then i’m all “pinkies up, fishes, we must attempt to convey poise and class.”

and sometimes i feel like the colour ink i choose is indicative of my life or something, and like i lost my fave ever red pen during reading week last week and read too much into what the symbolism of that might be and like omg my life is falling apart.

//but then i realize that i can actually buy another one.

i’m just out $6 because kewl pens are rlly expensive, and life lesson: swag costs money, kids.

Classes in General
—

So, honestly box, I’m not a huge fan of really any of the courses I’m taking right now, except for German.

–which, like really sucks.

——- because i’m paying money for them

———- and paying money for things that you aren’t getting swag out of is like eating biscuits without gravy. you feel me? (side note: honey butter is also acceptable)

but seriously, fri3nds, real talks,

take courses you like. and don’t take a coordinated arts stream unless you absolutely know what you want to do with your life.

because I most certainly do not, and here I am like knee-deep in a creek of ice cold media jargon.

Dreams
—

what are those????

no, seriously, I walked by Toys ‘R Us last night on Broadway at like 10PM when they were closed and it looked really bleak and I was like: “dreams die in there…”

But, seriously my last year of high school was all:

WOW. D R E A M

 

And this year has just been like:

Profs, tho.

 

So cheers, to the broke student life, and being realistic, and for getting shut down by profs. WINNNNNNING.

..tears

Food
—

I will never shut up about food, because seriously i can’t figure out how to do the thing most of the time.

I mean do i buy a whole pizza at mercante????? go to vanier caf? go to triple o’s? cry about the knorrs sidekick that is the pasta dish at Ike’s? rant about the sad selection of muffins at stir it up/ buy every candy imaginable there? go to the sub and survey every place ever just to decide that what I REAAALLY want is Tim Horton’s?

like,

what do>>>>????

 

Time Management
—

Let’s talk about that later.

—

seriously,

if i don’t plan most everything i basically fall apart and just end up napping the whole day or just marathon-ing Girls or something

Tangents
—

Full disclosure, I had to go to Tumblr to find that, and then I forgot my password, because I’m usually on my phone when i go on tumblr, and then i had to go check my Gmail, and then there were a bunch of other emails like the fact that Ingrid Michaelson is coming to down again, and is going to venue, and yet again, i will not be 19. and then i just pouted for a sec.

and then i went on youtube, because they also emailed me.

and then i forgot what i was doing.

and then i sort of reflected on the Oscars tonight and I still can’t decide how I feel about them…

DOES THIS EVER HAPPEN TO YOU?

DO YOU EVER JUST DROWN ON THE INTERNET IN WORDS AND GIFs and FEELS and PEOPLE.

UGH.

 

—

But, honestly, this is a cool time. and a not cool time. but mostly cool.

and i gotta just remember that.

—

let’s all raise a Starbucks and clink paper cups.

[clinks]

 

 

 

 

“Why Can’t You Be a MAN, Like Me?”

Hey, dear croissants, and double-tall lattes!

So, I have reappeared to talk *again* about something I never thought I could really communicate verbally. That topic, tonight, is masculinity.

It was never really a big deal to me.  Like, I was never really self-aware about myself in regards to other men, but I think today it kind of hit home.

—

So, I’m standing there, at the bus stop in Gastown, swapping stories with a homie, and I hear out of the corner of my ear:

“Are you an [F-ing] faggot?”

To my *great* joy, the “man” moved closer to my friend, and I.

“what?”

It was really all I could manage in the beginning.

“I said: ‘are you a [F-ing] faggot?” He repeated.

The alcohol was strong on his breath.
Classy.
A day-drinking homophobe.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, coyly, with my Ray-Bans covering the slight fear in my eyes.

(side note: way to poke the bear, Derrick.)

“I MEAN, ARE YOU A [F-ING] FAGGOT. IF YOU’RE A [F-ING] FAGGOT, I’LL PUNCH YOU OUT. ARE YOU A [F-ING] FAGGOT?”

—

“No, that’s not what I would call myself.”

—

“Then, why the [F] are you acting like that? You should act NORMAL. WHY CAN’T YOU BE A ‘MAN’, LIKE ME!?”

—

I didn’t know what to say to him after that.

He, then, walked over to my friend, and inquired if we were dating or not.

“I don’t like her like that…”

And with the lack of rise out of me, he went to go harass some other poor souls.  This “man” wanted a reaction, he wanted the shock value, and the violence.

He wanted to assert dominance over something (i.e. me) in true “masculine” form.

Did it get to me, though? No, It really didn’t.

—

I mean, let’s think about the question posed: “why can’t you be a man, like me?”

I clearly present my gender as male, so, there goes half of your argument, sir.

Secondly, I can’t be like you because we are two completely different people, who come from totally separate backgrounds.

I mean, I had braces to fix my teeth, which you didn’t.

You were sippin’ what looked like an MGD after you verbally harassed me, and went to go sulk on the bench.  Personally, I like to go drown my sorrows in a couple vodka-cranberries, but, to each their own.

I figured out that I didn’t like hockey, which you clearly love, on account of the Canucks jersey you so blatantly sported. Personally, though, I’ll pick my Amy Winehouse tee, and I’ll blast Frank, in its entirety, on my iPod.

I was wearing black skinnies. || You were wearing straight fit, light-wash blue jeans.

I was wearing black Vans. ||  You were wearing white Nikes.

I was born in ’95. || You were born in (probably) the ’70s.

I was wearing a toque. || You were wearing a ball-cap.

—

So, to answer your question: I can’t be a man, like you, because I was destined to be a different one.

I mean, I am not the heteronormative, masculine being that today’s media shoves down the throats of society; you got me there.

But, I like being different.

I like dyeing my hair.

I like spending insane amounts of money on apparel.

I like watching TV, somewhat obsessively.

I like dipping my fries, in ice cream.

I like it when people, occasionally, call me “D,” instead of Derrick, because it makes me feel cool.

I like listening to indie-rock bands from Gilbert, Arizona, that no one has heard of. (LYDIA)

I like my triple grande, non-fat, light-ice, half-sweet, non-fat, caramel macchiato.

I like who I am.

—

And, if all of this, makes me “less of a man,” then, cool.

—

I’m here for a reason.

Even if it’s just to corner the market on Nutella, and decide if I actually think pugs are cute, or not.

—

And, no matter what I do, HATERS GONNA HATE.

But, I’ll be damned if they faze me.

—

Peace. <3

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Late Night Snack Chronicles: Croutons/Ice Cream/Nutella

Hello, and good evening, to all the wonderful peepers that are now glazing over, whilst reading this sentence!

My name is Derrick, and I am a late night snacker!

Even at the ripe age of eighteen, I have yet to figure out how to eat proper meals throughout the day – and it is this that gives me the “hungry horrors,” on basically a daily basis, at sometime around 9PM.

Tonight was no different, I am sad to say.  The cupboards were just seductively calling my name!

Tonight’s object of desire: Croutons. Yes, croutons.

But, not just any croutons, Cabbage Patch kids, I’m talking Fresh Gourmet Parmesan Caesar, Multi-Grain ones (A.K.A. Salty Crunch City, USA).

But, then, those led to me just grabbing the tub of Bryers Vanilla Ice Cream from the freezer. Because where is salty, without SWEET!? (Seriously, try to answer that question.)

And then I was all, “BUT VANILLA IS SO PLAIN.”(we’re trying to spice up our love life, okay?)

So, the jar of Nutella showed up to my party, and basically everything was just popping. Like, we basically danced all night to the best song ever. And mutual enjoyment was had by all.

But my stomach is totally going to be hungover in the morning from all this excitement.

All in all, though, I REGRET NOTHING.

~MAY YOUR LATE NIGHT HUNGER REST IN PEACE.~