Last year I posted a blog entry at the end of January to depict my photographic journey of 2011 , and while no one read it including myself, there was something gratifying about commemorating all of the non-moments in my life at once. So I’ve decided to do it again for New Year’s Eve.
I can only hope you have found a better way to spend New Year’s than reading amateur WordPress blogs. But on the off chance that your life is as uneventful as mine, enjoy! Or at least pretend to.
At some point in January I decided that cleaning my purse was easier than dealing with arthritis in my shoulder the rest of my life. I photographed my efforts and now have concrete evidence that at any given time I can be found carrying items ranging in unimportance from detached bra under wires to opened and unusable tampons.
Oh. And that’s my foot in the corner. Not typically found in my purse.
While this photograph mostly represents my narcissism, I am including it because it also represents the beginning of a long and disappointing journey known as “Lena’s 2012 employment history.” In 2012 I held 4 different jobs ranging from coffee shop waitress/concubine, receptionist in an administrative office at a college, front desk receptionist at a hotel, and admissions representative at a tech school. Who says college is a waste of time?
During the last week of February and first week of March, I volunteered in the Dominican Republic. I can’t make this funny. It was one of the most profound, fulfilling experiences of my life and I feel extremely lucky to have had it. Plus I got hit on a lot there…score?
After convincing everyone in my office to buy raffle tickets from a student organization trying to save a sick llama, the universe had my back and helped me win this wine basket.
This is without question the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. Or at least that is what I told the student who brought it to our office.
“This looks like a whore house.”
My mother, as I dried my clothes in her kitchen.
This was my Bob Dylan vinyl collection back in June. I have since added five more. For Dylan geeks the total includes: Times They Are A-Changin, Another Side of Bob Dylan, Bringing it All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited, Blonde on Blonde, John Wesley Harding, Greatest Hits Vol 1&2, Nashville Skyline, New Morning, Before the Flood, Blood on the Tracks, Desire, At Budokan, Street Legal, Empire Burlesque, Real Live, Modern Times, Bootleg Series Vol. 4 (Live in 1966), and a VERY rare bootleg recording from the mid 60’s.
In July I was Freshly Pressed and it brought me greater pride than any other accomplishment of my life, including birth and learning how to read.
I’m not sure if you heard, but there was this thing called Hurricane Sandy. Because I’m unbalanced and deeply afraid of heavy wind, despite the relative mildness of the conditions in my area, I thought it necessary to relocate my mattress into the living room where there are no windows, but quite prevalent feelings of being locked in a dungeon. Don’t even tell me this was overkill!
I am a high/existential bee. I also throw great parties and enjoy practicing calligraphy in my free time.
She was drunk again, smiling and laughing in his orange face. He was contemplating a murder-suicide.
Pumpkin love between me and my boo.
Pun INTENDED. Hehehe.
Someone take away my blog.
My boyfriend and I are in some ways the same person, hold the genitals, or however I can more discretely put that. Nevertheless we are into things like all natural soap-making and even more into talking about how it makes us better than everyone. This is an example of how.
So we sort of like each other.
“Do you love me even when I’m crazy?”
“I love you especially when you’re crazy.”
I can dig that.
Both of our tongues are sticking out. Need I say more?
Being better than everyone we meet is exhausting, as evidenced in this handmade “basket” of handmade products given to our families for Christmas. Soap, lip balm, air fresheners, jam, and inconceivable arrogance.
I…I don’t know what is wrong with me.
You know you’re 1/4 Italian when after a lifetime of cooking a traditional Christmas Eve family recipe you still have no idea how to spell what you are making. You know your mother is 1/2 Italian when she tells you she will disown you if you share the recipe.
“I can’t see the TV, there are too many presents in the way!”
…First world problems?
There is currently a gigantic ice sickle in my freezer. I think I will keep it and use it as a weapon when a heroin addict inevitably returns to my apartment in search of the former tenant.
So long, 2012! Howdy, East Orange.
The girl with no (public) resolutions, but many (private) disappointments
On this day, last year, I reluctantly turned 23. I welcomed my inevitable aging with 2 bottles of Arbor Mist and FX reruns of Superbad, followed by fits of crying and my now infamous Waffle House date. I wasn’t going into 23 with dignity if I could avoid it. Well, ladies and gentleman, I am pleased to tell you that after 365 days of fighting against this change, I have prevailed. As of today, I am no longer 23.
I’m not going to lie to you; 24 doesn’t feel all that different, aside from my overwhelming desire to kick back in some orthopedic shoes and watch my programs for a few hours. I’m actually feeling relatively decent about getting older. My biggest bitch is knowing that I am slowly inching my way toward an age where I will be too old to get away with my lack of life plan on account of being “young and exploring options.” That alone upsets me more than death or any amount of Rhianna remixes.
So to avoid that penetrating reality one more day, this is my plan:
- Wash dishes
- Walk downtown and buy a scone
- Feel bad about buying a scone
- Eat the scone anyway
- Consider bulimia
- Go to my mom’s house where she, my sister, and brother will be hanging out for an obscenely long period of time because we are way too close and somewhat unhealthy
- Weep tears of gratitude for each present I receive because I’m emotionally unstable and incredibly charming
- Compose a mental list of goals to be completed while 24, knowing full well that no matter how much I do, the very idea of turning 25 makes me want to use my small intestine as a noose
- Go to bed happy
If anyone’s got his/her shit together, it would be me.
Now, last year in order to commemorate blossoming into my new age, I reflected on my 22nd year and compiled a list of 22 accomplishments. Using that logic, one might expect a list of 23 accomplishments, however being that I was kind of lazy and unmotivated this year, there’s a good chance it will stop at 6. Let’s see how far I can get:
- Started www.thegirlwiththeblog.com; which really, barely counts as an accomplishment if we’re being honest.
- Volunteered in the Dominican Republic
- Made $800 selling Christmas cookies
- Gained 15 pounds eating Christmas cookies
- Lived with my mom for 7 months
- Spent 24 hours on the courthouse steps for Occupy Nashville
- Gained an appreciation for the 40 hour work week through periods of unemployment and current over-employment
- Met one of the best friends ever from Murfreesboro, Tennessee 🙂
- Increased my credit score despite consistently late student loan payments
- Watched every Republican Presidential Debate
- Moved into my own apartment again
- Doubled my record collection
- Discovered Breaking Bad, Mad Men, and Parenthood. I should probably be embarrassed by watching this much TV
- Like a fat Samantha Brick, been unjustifiably hit on more in my life than ever before
- Saw Titanic in 3D
- Developed an obsession with tights and stockings
- Reached 150 pages in my novel
- Realized an emphatic hatred for touch screen technology
- Was traumatized by my New Year’s Day horoscope that said I will struggle in love for the next 14 years
- Have become significantly happier since last year
- If my blog viewing stats page is correctly, hopefully made 30,000 people laugh. Or at least 12
- Most recently, met someone pretty awesome 🙂
- Came up with 23 quasi-accomplishments for this stupid list
That took way too long. Next year I’m using some form of intellectual Ex-lax to speed up this process. Or maybe I should just do more cool shit. Whatever.
The girl who is now 24 and still childishly obsessed with birthdays