See that? You didn't know that about me before. That was a freebie. See, I got tagged by the adorable Kimmie of Blue Paper Lanterns to tell seven secrets about myself. Guys. I. LOVE. Talking about myself. It's like my number one hobby. Buckle your seatbelts and get excited for some funtimes over this way. [Edit: Rose tagged me for another blogger award! This one also involves me telling you all seven things about myself, but I really don't think you guys want to hear any more about the frequency of the trips I make to the bathroom, so I'm going to let this post suffice as my seven things for that one, too.]
1) I can practically recite every single episode of The Simpsons, Seasons 1-13.
Up until this past summer, we didn't have cable TV at my house. My parents thought that it would turn my brain into jelly if we had cable, but what it really resulted in was me gluing myself to the TV when I went to friends' houses and developing some kind of unhealthy addiction to MTV my freshman year of college.
For some reason, my parents didn't have a problem with The Simpsons, probably because it's funny and occasionally references classic literature. For years, instead of watching TV, we would put on one of our many seasons of The Simpsons and watch that instead of TV. The best episode ever is "Lemon of Troy." I will allow no arguments on this fact, as it is accepted by all that is holy. The end.
2) I met the Boyf in Ireland.
This sounds more glamorous than it really was. Just kidding. It was actually super glamorous.
What happened was this (I know you're all really interested to know): I took a class in Ireland for four weeks the summer before my senior year. It was offered through my college, so the school basically got together a big group and sent us over with two professors. I was technically taking a class called "Travel Writing" but really I just bonded with my favorite professor and got drunk in pubs a lot.
The Boyf was one of three boys out of our group of nineteen. We frolicked around Dublin in an obnoxiously huge group for the first three days of the trip, awkwardly tiptoeing around each other because no one really knew each other that well yet and things were kind of awkward. One night at a pub we were all chatting with a couple guys our age who were there for the U2 concert, and one of them looked at Boyf and me and said, "Well, you two clearly fancy each other." And we practically fell over each other being all UM NO WE DO NOT DON'T SAY THAT THAT'S RIDICULOUS HAHAHA.
Two days later, we went to a different town, unpacked our stuff in our semi-permanent apartments, went grocery shopping, bought wine on said shopping expedition, got really drunk at dinner, and then decided to watch Irish TV. We ended up watching The Butterfly Effect which is, fyi, a really horrible movie. And then the Boyf asked me if he could kiss me and I said yes and then he said, "I really like you," and I said, "Me too," and we spent the rest of the trip being really disgusting and wandering around Ireland holding hands and making everyone else on the trip vomit and hate us. And the rest, as they say, is history.
3) I was a Creative Writing major in college.
Everyone thought I was crazy. I was high school valedictorian and I did really pretty awesome on the SATs and everyone was like, "Major in something where you can make money!" But all I ever wanted to be was a writer. I went to college, stopped taking anything that even remotely resembled math, got chummy with everyone in the English department, and became that irritating girl who sits in your workshop and says, "I'm not sure if these metaphors are exactly consistent, you know what I mean?" I never doubted for a second that this was what I was good at, this was what I was meant to do, this was what was going to make me happy forever.
But now I've graduated. And I can't find a job. And I'm a waitress and I hate it. And I'm beginning to wonder, for the first time in my life, if maybe I should have gone into something boring but lucrative. But then I take a step back and I realize I wouldn't have been happy studying anything but what I did. Still, it would be nice to be actually employed so I didn't have to feel guilty about all that money on my degree going to waste.
4) I pee a lot.
I do. TMI, right? But it's because I'm really into hydration. I drink a lot of water, a lot of tea, a lot of seltzer, a lot of coffee. And then I pee. It's just how these things go.
5) I didn't learn how to drive until I was 18.
When I was 16 I got my permit like everyone else because it just involved taking a test and I'm good at taking tests. But driving terrified me. My dad and I are a lot a like, so when we got into the car together we would both be tense and nervous and end up screaming at each other and slamming on the breaks and Dad would end up driving home muttering about "almost went into the ditch" while I pouted with my arms crossed. The summer after my first year of college I decided enough was enough and asked Mom to teach me how to drive. I don't know why I hadn't thought to do that before. Mom and I gelled a lot better and I got my liscense less than two months later. Easy-peasy.
6) I love romcoms.
See that girl over there with the hipster glasses and the vintage scarf? The one reading Hemingway and drinking some kind of organic, fair-trade latte in a recyclable mug? The one who babbles on about Wes Anderson and Woody Allen movies? The one who watches The Cooking Channel instead of Food Network simply because The Cooking Channel is "more indie"? The one who is living a lie because she secretly loves really sappy, predictable movies (like Love & Other Drugs) more than anything in the world?
Yeah, that would be me. I like The Notebook. I'm coming to terms with the fact that I like The Notebook. It's just taking me a while.
7) I have literally almost no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life.
I know, I know. Everyone says, "That's fine," and "You have plenty of time to figure it out" and "Something will come along." But I'm twenty-two and I already feel old. I feel like I should be doing something. I have so many ideas of things I want to do, but no idea how or why or when I'll be doing them. Should I move to NYC and try to get a job in the publishing industry? Should I live an awesome bohemian lifestyle while I focus on my writing and eventually get my MFA? Should I move in with Boyf? Should I move to the Pacific Northwest? Should reapply for Teach For America and actually take the job this time?
I'm good at worrying and I'm good at getting panicky. But then I slow down and I realize that I am twenty-two. I can do anything. Nothing is holding me down. And that, palaminos, is a pretty sweet feeling.
Woah. Sorry for busting out the heavy on y'all. Here, look at these puppies for a while and forget my awkward seriousness.