Vanitose Vanity

On December 21, 2012 the world was supposed to end. Instead of doing anything remotely excitable or festive, I sat on a pile of clothes (because I am not responsible enough to ever put them away despite my age) in my childhood bedroom and took dumb photos of my self on my computer in between reading Lydia Davis. I wasn't even getting laid or drinking a tall can, which may sound juvenile but also like an easy enough vehicle to celebrate my own mortality. At least, I knew I existed in those last moments on Earth. That's the sad thing about the 'digital age,' that there or no physical time capsules we can leave to aliens, or our 50 year old selves, or they are limited in that sense. The difference between the two is lost to me. Pixels, bookmarks, digital music, blogs, and status updates are equally as fleeting as decaying photos and paper, I suppose. Alas, the world did not end and I am happy.

I feel like a glorified 15-year-old most often, unfortunately sans neon hair dyes...
I have come to terms that I am the girl who trips at least once daily, spills various perfumes and liquids in my purse, spills on myself or others, breaks glassware, break telephones, drop phones in pools, and gets phone stolen in Europe, etc.

A lot of my male friends have or have had death wishes, but lately their wishes have been being granted.

I relate with

Ah, a moment of clarity.
Listening to music while the tv is on mute. It's accidental but it works.
High without drugs.
Never make resolutions because
I sometimes find myself trying to use the word indifferent. then I google it because I doubt I use it correctly.
Feeling indifferent today.

Illustrations I relate with:
1.

2.

A song I don't relate with but was once obsessed with. I was 10. I don't care.

Social Anxiety

I love Sundays. I say this often.
I enjoy going through my day at my own pace.
I enjoy listening to Beyonce with my dog. I'm a dog person. I talk to my dog. I look to my dog for some sort of reassurance. I prefer the company of dogs over people.

I don't like it when people ask me "what's new." Friends, nothing is ever new and you all make me feeling fucking boring when you ask me that.
Usually the day after a party I feel like vomiting. I know I just spent the previous night fluffing my life so I can feel somewhat up to par. What the fuck does that even mean?



Then I watch dog videos on youtube and get over my anxiety. I realize that I just over analyze every situation and I can't be a people pleaser.

Then I receive a text from a friend telling me about a woman who flipped her car last night and the doctors can't stop the bleeding. Her 9 year old daughter isn't aware of the situation.

Life is odd. Anxiety is overwhelming.
Sundays are my slow day.

"Self-Care: 12/15/12"

Listening to the same album or artist over and over as self-care.
Putting on make-up as self-care.
Wearing clothes that I look okay in and don’t feel fat in as self-care.
Watching too much Sex and the City for the 23rd time as self-care.
Obsessing on whichever girl (usually female anyway) who is cooler than me and who is intriguing me most at this moment as self-care. Look up coinciding wikipidia pages, tumblr, blogger, websites, associated with said obsession as self-care.
Look in the mirror and lift my shirt to see how fat I look today, then cross my eyes to make sure I am only seeing my silhouette and not my disillusion as self-care. Read short stories as self-care.
Scouring Pitchfork.com for new music that will make me feel happy and excited as self-care. Feminism as self-care.
Thinking about cats and dogs as self-care.
Trying to write anything as self-care.
This list as self-care.
Re-reading love letters written to me recently as self-care.
Spending time with person who wrote the letters, who makes me forget everything outside of his room exists, as self-care.
Orgasms as self-care.
Wine, beer, weed, liquor as self-care.
Distraction as self-care.
Trying to get myself to cry as self-care.
 Daydreaming as self-care.
Best friends as self-care.
Smelling perfume as as self-care.
Going through your emails, email drafts, etc until you see something that you did in the past that makes you feel like you did something worthwhile or were decent as self-care.
Narcissism as self-care.
Making sure you existed in the past as self-care.
Making sure you were an okay human at some points as self-care.

"I wish you could leave facetime messages"

It's nice to do what feels like a time warp for a bit. I like reading blogs because I obsess over productive lives and then realize I'm mostly unproductive. Hypochrondriac (spell took a goodgle search), so now I break out in hives. I hope this breeds some substance.