Category Archives: StarbucksLovesMyOrders

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.

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click. clack.

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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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Let’s talk about that later.

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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
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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.

 

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

and i gotta just remember that.

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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.

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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?”

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

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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

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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.

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

But, I’ll be damned if they faze me.

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Peace. <3