“Finals, Man…”

‘Twas the night before a final, and I was kinda freaking out, kinda wanting to go binge-watch Homeland.

You see, Carrie Mathison gets something about finals. She gets the attitude I have towards the profs that push me to this point:

If only I could call them. If only.

—

Basically, here’s how the pre-final experience goes:

10:30AM: wake up, and roll over.

10:31AM: nick nack paddy wack, give a dog a SOCIAL SECURITY CHEQUE BECAUSE THE DOG CAN’T AFFORD A BONE ANYMORE what

10:32AM: i’m gonna go na-nights again.

—

11:30AM: hello world.

11:31AM: it is raining and I don’t appreciate this.

11:32AM: I should probably eat.

11:33AM: I should probably study.

11:34AM: I should probably get a haircut and call my mom.

11:45AM: OH I’M SORRY WERE YOU EXPECTING PROGRESS? HAHAHAHAHA SO WAS I.

—

12:00PM: Do I have any bananas left?

12:02PM: I do not.

12:05PM: [search through friends list and see who would bring me a banana if I paid them in smiles and mediocre hugs]

12:05PM: I am also out of cookie butter and this is really, really tragic for everyone (read: me, myself, and I).

12:10PM: what’s [insert a type of affection] got to do with it?

—

12:11PM: Homeland.

12:13PM: buffering.

12:15PM: hi. still buffering.

12:17PM: I feel like I should’ve been offered some sort of valet parking service for the amount of buffering going on here.

12:19PM: WHY UBC INTERNET>asdfjkl;

12:25PM: I ate a whole Toblerone last night and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

12:35PM: I’ve watched a 1/4 of the episode and the rest is still buffering

12:40PM: Discover High School USA!

12:41PM: This show really isn’t that funny, but here I am.

12:51PM: Wow, the episodes are only ten minutes long.

1:01PM: It really doesn’t get any better.

1:05PM: guyz, Homeland (kind of) loaded

1:06PM: Is anyone else craving a loaded baked potato right now or is that just me?

1:07PM: It is just me.

—

1:58PM: I finished Homeland. I feel like, really productive.

2:05PM: I’m really hungry and I should probably go eat.

2:06PM: Do you ever just count the holes on your wall and wonder how they got there?

2:06PM and-a-half: Do you think they happened during finals season?

2:07PM: Do you think penguins get lonely?

2:30PM: acquire food.

2:32PM: inhale food.

2:33PM: food mini coma

2:35PM: should I get a happy planet?

2:36PM: WILL I BE HAPPIER ON THIS PLANET IF I-

2:36PM TTASTE WAS GOOD.

“Ate my dog, taste was good!”

2:38PM: Wow, I really should be getting more exercise.

2:40PM: What is exercise without the proper gear?

2:41PM: answer: an interpretative dance of the badly dressed

3:01PM: it is raining and I regret this decision. seriously.

3:45PM: I’m at Wreck Beach staring into the ocean.

3:47PM: [whispers into ocean] tell me the secret to my exam tomorrow

3:55PM: The ocean didn’t respond and I am feeling so attacked.

3:57PM: THERE IS A DOGE. IT IS RUNNING WITH ITS OWNER WOW.

4:15PM: I do hate stairs. I hate this.

4:29PM: SHOWER

5:00PM: I’m feeling sexy and free like glitter is raining of me.

5:14PM: DINNER

5:45PM: guyz, i called my mom finally.

6:03PM: I have arrived at the land of studies.

6:07PM: where do I sit.

6:10PM: seriously. where did all of these people come from????

6:20PM: I am back where I started and I need you all to know that this is not what I expected, I mean who are all these people, who do they think they are just paying tuition and using the library. NOT OKAY.

—

7:15PM: Oh, I didn’t see you there. Why, yes, I’ve been studying and not researching Lindsay Lohan’s most recent antics. (she’s recording with her sister Ali and Duran Duran.)

7:17PM: Based on these comments, people are not super pleased with Duran Duran for this move.

7:25PM: You are really interrupting me, and I was studying so nicely.

7:35PM: OH MY GAWSH. A FWRIEND? I DIDN’T KNOW I HAD ANY LEFT.

7:40PM: and then I was all NO WAY.

7:45PM: and then she was all YES WAY.

7:50PM: basically I wish we were brushing each other’s hair at this point. That would be comforting before finals.

—

8:30PM: I AM SO GOOD AT FLASH CARDS.

10:03PM: I want the record to show that some guy literally just asked me where the best place to poop was in Irving.

10:03PM and-a-half: is this a social experiment? am I being punk’d? Where is 2005 Ashton Kutcher?

10:04PM: he says he can’t make it to the fourth floor.

10:04PM and-a-half: he’s just going to “go for it.”

10:05PM: concluding statement to the conversation from him: “finals, man.”

—

10:07PM: oh no the end of the world as we know it

10:08PM: my phone is at 2%

10:09PM: WHAT EVER WILL I DO???????

10:11PM: welp, time to pack up. this was really solid.

10:16PM: you know, this studying thing is so good. I should do it more often.

but in all realness, let me just say: GOOD LUCK ON YOUR FINALS, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. YOU GOT THIS AND I BELIEVE IN YOU SO MUCH. SERIOUSLY. LUV U BYE. xoxo

New York Realities

June 18th

It’s sometime past 6:30AM, and my sister wakes me with a soft knock on the dark wooden door.

Perhaps my reaction is a tad delayed in the fact that I am in fact going into New York city today, as I lie in bed for another five minutes or so, something I do when I’m at home and avoiding the moral call to get ready for work.

I shower with a bar of Aveda soap, and a travel-sized tube of St. Ives apricot scrub. It’s not until after I get out of the shower that I realize that I didn’t wash my armpits. The second round in the shower makes me confront my excitement for the day ahead.

I eat a bowl of multigrain cheerios in what is the immaculate kitchen of this Katonah, NY dream house. I’m a far cry from the still of Breakfast at Tiffany’s I have on my bedroom wall at home, but perhaps that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as I sip a coffee that seems a tad better than the one Miss Golightly holds.

We enter White Plains, NY and I’m greeted by the greatest mall in the area: Westchester Mall. It’s a Wednesday morning, and arriving upon opening brings me stares from the mall employees. I always hate the first customers of the day, too.

It’s a cornucopia of American stores: Gap, Banana Republic, American Eagle, American Apparel, Starbucks, Urban Outfitters. It’s like I’m home again.

Urban Outfitters ends up being my only place of success, which is something of a surprise to me, but perhaps my high-standards are somewhat lowered in the face of two-dollar Girls calendars and ten-dollar BDG hoodies.

In my two hours, I’ve tried on more clothes than I have in a whole year, across the mall. I never try things on, but in the spirit of killing time, I indulge myself.

I walk up to my sister’s hair salon, and arrive a tad early. I’m greeted by her colourist, who informs me that I must go to “The Village.” I nod my head like he has just told me the secret to happiness, but inside my head there’s not a whole lot going on. The only village I know of is this really try-hard section of Park Royal with a Whole Foods and a Tommy Bahama’s.

We drive into the city, and I try to capture moments of the George Washington bridge as we drive by it. Sadly, there’s a lot of dashboard in these shots.

Ultraviolence plays the whole way into the city, with “Brooklyn Baby” played on repeat a couple of times. I don’t think I’ll ever be this close to Brooklyn with the lyrics of Lana this fresh in my head.

The day seems like a dream.

We park somewhere in a garage somewhere down an avenue that is in the forties. I watch the silver Jeep go up a lift, before I enter the humidity and hostility that is the air of New York City.

If there’s something to be said about this city, it’s that it’s alive. There is life every single place you look, there are people every single place you look. I can’t stop looking around as we dart through the people, only stopping when the light is truly red. It’s lunch time now, and the line-ups for food trucks are as big as they seem on The Food Network. My mind is on so many things, except where our end point could be.

Stop. We’re going the wrong way.

Turn around, dart faster, faster.

Dang, I am never doing NYC with a triathlon runner again, I think.

She darts into a building about five minutes later, and I chase after her striped dress, the door almost hitting me on the way in.

We’re at a show. The show has just started, but they still give us tickets. We rush up flights of stairs to our seats. It all starts to hit me that this is all really happening, and I’m about to see Michael C. Hall, Toni Collette, and Marisa Tomei in about thirty seconds. My sister remembered me briefly mentioning it, and totally surprised me! The show, The Realistic Joneses, takes just over an hour, critiquing human socialization, with a dark comedic edge.

It was one of the coolest shows I’ve seen, mostly because I haven’t watched anything like it before.

We’re ushered down the opposite spiral staircase to the street, and I sheepishly sneak my way back in to find a ‘restroom’ as the American’s call it.

—

We wander through Times Square, and I’m greeted by what is the biggest H&M I have ever seen, and a Gap that had a lot of the same stuff that my store had at home (ah, corporations.)

—

By this time, we’re reminded that our last substance was a package of mini-biscotti-esque cookies, and a lukewarm bottle of water.

We head to an area called Hell’s Kitchen, and head into a place called Mercato, as recommended by her colourist. It’s all very hip, and cute, with some patrons fawning over the World Cup near the bar. I don’t really taste the food as I shovel it down, but perhaps the point of this meal is the presence of my sister’s smile across the table from me.

—

We head towards Greenwich Village, taking the Subway. It’s a far-cry from the Canada Line, as their turnstiles actually work. Getting off near NYU, we walk to the Village, which falls short of the shopping I was promised. I see various stalls with vendors, a Chipotle, and a schwack of piercing places on the same block. Although tempting to add to my body mods while I’m away, I decide to save a sweet sixteen-esque, impulse piercing for another day.

We head for SoHo, walking by cool stores like Rag & Bone, and Brooklyn Industries on the way. In SoHo, I’m greeted by familiar stores like Zara, and Converse. Dean & DeLuca catches my eye, and I’m reminded of that moment in The Devil Wears Prada where they name-drop D&D for their pricetag of almost $8 per strawberry.

—

We subway back to somewhere near the forty-something avenue where the Jeep is, as it’s starting to hit dusk, and we’re both tired.

It’s been quite the day for me, walking through this city of dreams and dashed stars. I get to play Lana in the dark, as my sister drives back up-state.

You’re crazy for me, croons Lana in the outro to “Cruel World,” and honestly that couldn’t sum up my feelings for this city more. I am crazy for it.

—

I say a quick goodnight to my sister, and brother-in-law, once we arrive, and hear the echo of my patter on the hardwood, as I walk to my room.

I shut the dark hardwood door softly and wince in pain for a moment, as I look down at my right foot.

A small blister has decided to emerge on my pinkie toe after the day’s events.

There it is: my crown.

Derrick Gravener: Honorary New Yorker, for a day.

New York Dreams

Sunday

It’s 12:38AM, and I lie here listening to the sound of a party in the distance. The bass is somewhat absent in what is the neighbour’s son’s College graduation party. People’s taste in party music has always been fascinating to me. It’s weird being alone in the basement of an Upstate New York house, on a mattress. A few days previously I was stressing about my final Creative Writing 200 assignment, and the state of my personal life. I lie here knowing that the end of the summer term left me more alone than I had originally thought.

Loneliness is a fear I have. Why? Because most of the time I think too much, and before you know it, I wake up having a panic attack. Sometimes my dreams are not too kind to me, but we can’t blame them for telling me things that I am too afraid to admit to myself.

I thought this trip thousands of miles away from everything would be like a trip to rehab, to be perfectly honest. I expected to go to a place with no internet, just the company of a pool and the scorching sun. Perhaps rehab is a hyperbolic comparison, but who doesn’t like a good hyperbole?

My brain was making all kinds of situations up, probably to distract myself from the fact that this would be the first time I flew alone. My journey to the New York/Newark airport was memorable for sure, thanks to my connection in Chicago at the Orly Airport.

Chicago Sunrise

I had the pleasure of being on a red-eye out of Vancouver. I trapped myself next to the window and fell asleep after I found out that the $9.00 internet did not let me watch Netflix [sigh]. We landed at 5:00AM Chicago time, which is about 3:00AM Vancouver time. As groggy as I was, I managed to get myself through Customs, and on to the train which would take me to the terminal where my connecting flight was. Once there, I discovered that my 1.5 hour wait for my flight had become a 3.5 hour wait. I trudged to the Starbucks nearest to my gate and drowned myself in a caramel macchiato. No one at my gate seemed too happy due to the delay, so I decided to go sit with people flying to Denver. Sitting with people who weren’t mad at United Airlines really helped my psyche — that, and the caffeine I had just ingested.

I slept all but fifteen minutes of my flight from Chicago to Newark, and woke up feeling human again.

The sight of my mother in the arrivals terminal brought tears to my eyes. I think the only thing I really didn’t like about flying alone was not having a shoulder to sleep on during the flight.

I lie here, in this cool basement, surrounded by my family. Not directly surrounding me, but they lie only two floors above me. It’s comforting.

—

There are moments that have happened today that I will never be able to recreate:

-When the navigator steered my mom and I in the wrong direction and we ended up knee-deep in the Bronx, for instance. The entrance of the area so congested, and humid that there were men selling bottles of water to the people stuck in Saturday traffic.

-The look on my father’s face as I snuck up behind him, and yelled ‘SURPRISE!’ He had no idea I was coming out to see him for Father’s Day.

-Winding down the night with the company of my extended family surrounding me, as they laughed at how I held a pool cue.

All of that makes the fear that I had seem so unnecessary. Sure, there will be hours alone while I’m here, but everyone is only an iMessage or a Snapchat away.

I lie here alone, trying not to drift away in my thoughts of what could’ve been my past summer term. I’m trying to dream up what I want to do when we go into the city, instead. I still don’t know, there are so many options. Instead, I listen in again to the faint guitar in the distance, at the graduation party, and I realize that facing the loneliness is not as scary as I thought it would’ve been.

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]

How to Be a Hot Mess…

Hello, and welcome back to the Possibility Wasteland.

I am not dead, contrary to popular belief.

I was just busy being a really disorganized university student trying to manage: my work schedule, my social life, my final projects, my sanity, my food intake, and my dryer’s amount of lint discharge. Y’know, trying to make the basics, seem not so basic.

Did I succeed? Well, more or less. I mean, I made it through term one, and didn’t get Mad Cow Disease. I did, however, end up getting bronchitis about two weeks before the end of term, which was really fun times. [laughs to keep from crying]

It was all in the name of being a hot mess, though, which turns out to be what I succeeded in.

How did I do that, you ask?

Well, you too, can achieve “hot mess” status by doing these things:

1. Don’t start any of your papers until the night before they are due! Bonus points if you don’t start it until 2AM, on the morning that it’s due. The extra stress, combined with your lack of consciousness for spelling and grammar errors is sure to get you the highest mark in the class, and probably a spot on the Dean’s List.

2. Break up your meal schedule. It’s a really great idea to have breakfast at 6AM, followed by lunch at 3PM. This ensures optimum clarity in all of your classes. I mean, whoever brings water, or energy bars, to class is clearly doing something wrong. Up the ante by disregarding dinner on the night before your term paper is due (which is obviously haven’t started) and by having a three-part nervous breakdown between the bulk-food section at save-on-foods (I was talking to the bin of dino sours), your bathroom floor (after throwing your phone across the room), and your kitchen floor (after you receive text messages that you will read too much into). Of course, a heavy penne dinner at 10:30PM will solve all problems, and not sit in your stomach for hours on end, or anything.

3. Pull an unhealthy amount of all-nighters, in combination with a semi-full time work schedule. Please make sure to pull an all-nighter during take-home exams, and then say YES to overnight shifts at work. Because sleep is for keeners who actually get As in their classes. I mean who needs a relatively above-average GPA. Pssshh. Those are so overrated.

4. Catch up on your sleep during lecture! I mean, if you’re actually putting your notebook on the lap desk, and not your head, you’re doing something wrong. Bonus points if you fall asleep in the front row in your class of only 25. This will ensure that your prof will appreciate your iconic sleep-swaying all the more! (shout-out to Dr. Mauro. happy holidays. xo) Of course, you’re only hardcore if you’ve fallen asleep in every single class, AT LEAST ONCE.

5. Always show up 5-15mins late with Starbucks. This really screams that you care about the class enough to show up on time. Profs will really value your presence.

6. Don’t even budget. LAWL spending like crazy is a really great idea, and like the fact that you might have to dip into tuition to pay off your credit card bill, is totally fine, and won’t cause you panic attacks. I mean only Greece has to budget.

7. Always keep what’s in your mind ’till later. I mean that point that you had regarding neoliberalism will truly be as valuable during dinnertime discourse, as it would have been in your sociology 100A class, right? It will totally earn you participation marks. Bonus points if this carries over to your social life, and you end up exploding at people a month after the actual issue. Yes, very smart, poised, and sexy.

8. Obsess over small things. You see that zit on your forehead that you wanna pop like a molly at a rave? Yes, you should pick at it until it bleeds like Gatsby’s heart. Then you should loathe your own existence for not having any self-control over things like that. Yes, that is very healthy. Also, obsessing over what anchor iPhone case you will get off Etsy should be a really deep source of stress in your life, or you are clearly doing something wrong.

9. Dwell in the past. I mean living in the now is so cliché. Who does that? You should always live in your mistakes, and your short-comings, and failed voyages. That will really get you where you aspire to be, and truly make you seem present in social situations with people who might be there to change your life or something, idk.

10. Own the title. You clearly earned “hot mess” status all by yourself, why not brag about what a massive screw-up you are all the time? Yes, this will earn you respect in the company of your peers.

So, there you have it. And, if you follow these steps, you will indeed become just like be! (Bronchitis not included)

[disclaimer: please don’t do any of this, I seriously warn you. Bad things will happen. Your overall well-being is at stake, and this was only written in an attempt to evoke change. xo]

Day-Old Moonshine

Category Archives: afterthoughtsoui